


Hostile Takeover

by sturms_sun_shattered



Series: Hostile Takeover Universe [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brotherly Love, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Gen, Suspense, everyone makes an appearance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 54,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2664506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sturms_sun_shattered/pseuds/sturms_sun_shattered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin & Co is a small business specializing in custom novelties, from jewelry to weaponry.  In the autumn of 2013, they are going head to head with legal troubles, competition from mass manufactures, and other sabotage from competitors.  Things get suspicious when a cold case from Thorin's past begins to heat up.  Can Thorin work to unravel the mystery, and save his failing business, or will the stress unravel him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thorin & Co

11 October 2013

 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to start at the beginning,” said the private investigator flicking on his tiny recording device.

Thorin stared at the slim instrument that sat on the faux-finish desk between him and the investigator. The two sat in a tiny office, which looked as though it had not had much done in the way of renovations since the 1980s. The panelled walls bore water stains around the window and the curtains were coming off of the rod. Thorin shifted in his worn chair; the place was simply seedy.

“I was under the impression that your associate—the one who referred me—would be onsite for this consultation,” said Thorin uneasily.

“Yes well, the professor can be a bit…eccentric,” said the PI.

“The beginning…what will help your investigation?” Thorin asked.

“Well Mr. Durinson,” said PI Baggins, “I should like to understand a bit more about your company.”

17 August 2013

Thorin had established his business just over seventeen years ago. He managed to do so in partnership with his lifelong friend, Dwalin and the two had spent virtually every day since maintaining their business, expanding into new markets. They specialised in one-of-a-kind jewellery, metalworking, and movie prop replicas.

At first, it had been just the two of them, with Dwalin’s older brother pitching in his business and legal expertise when it was solicited…and sometimes when it was not. It had been Balin’s idea, however, to start selling their wares on the Internet. Though Dwalin was highly resistant to the idea and Thorin was mostly ambivalent, Balin convinced them to hire a website designer. So (after exactly one interview in which Dwalin said nothing, but stared menacingly at the applicant) they hired Nori for the contract.

“No one orders anything,” complained Dwalin, after only a few short weeks. He glared at Nori who suppressed a sigh of frustration.

“What?” asked Dwalin.

“You need advertising,” said Nori.

“The thing doesn’t advertise itself?” complained Dwalin.

“You don’t really understand the Internet, do you?” asked Nori.

Dwalin fixed him with a glare. After all, they had taken out ads in the local newspapers. They had printed flyers and had Fíli and Kíli distribute them on their paper route. They had put up posters on message boards. It was all they could afford.

“Thorin,” Dwalin hollered to the front of the store, never taking his eyes off of Nori.

“What?” asked Thorin, peeking around the corner, still polishing a pewter flagon.

“This clown says we need advertising,” said Dwalin.

“We have advertising,” said Thorin.

Nori kept a straight face to his credit.

“Computer advertising,” said Dwalin, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Thorin frowned slightly.

“Look, I know a guy,” said Nori.

“We don’t have the money for ‘a guy’,” said Thorin evenly.

“He’d probably do it for the experience. You’d just have to pay for the advertising,” said Nori.

Thorin considered this for a moment.

“I'll meet with him and see what he thinks he can do,” said Thorin.

A few days later, Thorin met with the happiest fellow he thought he would ever meet. Even Dwalin’s dourness did not seem to affect Bofur. Thorin was suspicious of this pro bono offer, however, so he pressed Bofur.

“Look, lads,” Bofur said, “I really do need the experience. I’m trying to upgrade right now…well really just trying to get an education to start with. I’m in marketing and what I really need is an internship.”

“You wish to intern for us?” said Thorin.

Dwalin leaned his chair back against the wall, and stared at the young man.

“And if I do a good job, you’ll know because you’ll have…well you’ll have customers,” he said.

Dwalin shrugged and Thorin reached across the table and shook Bofur’s hand.

After a few weeks, orders from the Internet began to trickle in. Dwalin scoffed that they were mostly replica Klingon weapons, but Thorin felt great hope for their little business. He felt far more hopeful than he had in several years. As they began to turn a profit they expanded into trophies and engravings.

Less than two years after the opening of the store, Dwalin began to complain that he was unable to keep up with the books as well as forge Bat’leths and Excaliburs (“for those middle-aged nerds in their mothers’ basements,” Dwalin grumbled) so they hired Glóin, an accountant. They continued to contract Nori for website maintenance and when Bofur finished his courses they hired him for monthly consultations.

After seven years, Thorin & Co. was gaining quite the reputation and had even been hired to produce medieval swords for several theatre and television productions. They hired Bofur’s younger brother, Bombur, to assist in deliveries and on the sales floor. Bombur had some experience with watch and jewelry repair from a job at a rival jeweler’s, so began to apprentice with Dwalin on a semi-regular basis.

They continued to grow their team of specialists with Ori, a young graphic artist who handled the more complicated contracts and etchings. Thorin spent more of his time dealing with dealers, sellers, and other clientele. Fíli and Kíli spent afternoons after school helping out or sitting in Thorin’s office with their homework.

After those seventeen years of hard work, Thorin was proud of their business. He was signing off on payroll in his office on this warm summer day. Fíli was sitting behind the counter doing a crossword and listening to some truly awful—well, Thorin thought it was truly awful—music on the computer. The bell on the front door tinkled and he heard Fíli jump to he feet, before Dwalin marched into his office and slammed a piece of paper onto his desk.

“I think we might have legal trouble,” said Dwalin.

“Your brother was consulted on all copyrighted material—”

“Not that,” said Dwalin.

“What then?”

“Do you know we have to hire women? Someone complained that we don’t have any women working for us. You know that mechanic’s shop down the way got served papers,” fumed Dwalin.

“So. We hire a woman. They just have one sit at the desk and answer the phone at the shop…” said Thorin.

“How progressive of you,” drawled Fíli, from the doorway.

“I said we would hire one,” said Thorin, unsure what Fíli’s problem with the proposed plan was.

Fíli had become more opinionated about everything than Thorin would have liked since he had started school. He was now entering his last year at Dunland University and he was shocked at how much his nephew had changed in the few short years he had been there.

“You get that from those short-haired girls you hang out with?” asked Dwalin.

Fíli flushed slightly at Dwalin’s comment, but ignored the intended insult as he continued.

“They're my roommates and I'm not sure what you're getting at. My point is, you put her behind the desk she’ll know she’s a token hire. You might get more complaints. But if you let her learn a little in the forge—”

“Nope,” said Dwalin, crossing his arms over his thick chest.

“Fíli has a point,” Thorin said.

Fíli smiled. Dwalin remained stoic. Thorin sighed.

“Why don’t we just hire your sister then?” asked Dwalin.

“Because she works for the city and she enjoys it,” said Thorin, pushing aside the paper that Dwalin had slammed down on the company chequebook.

Dwalin turned and walked out of the office, behind the counter and to the high-ceilinged forge in the back. Someone had ordered several Game of Thrones replicas, which needed to be shipped out of the country. He had work to do anyway.

“Fíli, I need you to put up an ad online for a store-front assistant. But make it a store-front and general assistant, part time…” Thorin instructed his nephew.

Fíli nodded and went to work on his laptop, turning up the music on the storefront desktop so he could hear it over Dwalin's crashing about in the forge. He stayed behind the counter so as not to disturb Thorin in his office as he worked. Dwalin stormed back up to the front while Fíli was working and yanked his iPod from the computer without ejecting it. 

“That's so bad for it!” Fíli protested, but Dwalin simply went back to the forge and turned up the classic rock station as loud as he could on the forge’s radio.


	2. The Moving Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation continues: Fili recalls moving Kili into his new apartment before school starts.

11 October 2013

“So you hired a woman?” clarified the PI.

“News of complaints being filed all around you? What else could I do?” said Thorin.

Baggins muttered something under his breath about the stone age. Thorin did not appreciate his glib attitude in the face of his current disaster. Time was running out.

“You’ve told me about everyone else who works for you. I think that you should tell me about her as well,” Baggins said.

“She was…competent…”

19 August 2013

Only one woman applied for the position. Thorin frowned at the resume in his email inbox. There were a handful from men, but he had not even bothered to open them. Perhaps this was a sign that women really did not want to work for his company. He called her and scheduled an interview for that afternoon. He was secretly glad that Dwalin was out at wares show with Bombur for the day; he was not prepared to deal with his friend's griping over the apparent invasion of this, apparently their man-cave.

She came in shortly after lunch, dressed in grey dress pants and a green blouse, carrying a leather dossier case. Kíli smiled dopily across the counter at her, asking if he could help her out with anything.

“Actually, I received a call from Thorin. I’m here for an interview,” she said.

“Tauriel?” Fíli asked, stepping in before his brother scared her away with his drooling.

She nodded, extending her hand Fíli. He shook it and introduced himself and his brother, then led her to the office to wait for Thorin. He closed the door partially and turned to his brother.

“Go get Thorin. He’s behind the forge.”

“I want to interview her,” said Kíli, a grin on his face.

Fíli shook his head.

“C’mon, Fíli,” he begged, elbowing his older brother.

“Kíli, seriously. Thorin said I would sit in on the interview.”

Kíli sighed and left the building through the back door of the forge. Fíli rubbed his short beard with frustration. The last thing the company needed was a sexual harassment suit. He stepped into the office to make sure that Tauriel was comfortable. She seemed to be pulling at a string from the hem of her blouse and stopped as she saw Fíli peek into the room.

“Thorin will be here in a moment. Would you like a glass of water?” he offered.

“Oh, no thanks,” she said.

He sat down in the hard wooden chair that Thorin kept in the corner for Dwalin. He pulled a piece of scrap paper from the corner of Thorin’s desk for notes, absently babbling about the history of the business to Tauriel. He tested out a couple of pens from a clay mug that Kíli had made for Thorin years earlier.

“That’s very interesting. How did you come by metalworking?” she asked.

“Runs in the family I suppose,” said Fíli genially, “our great-grandfather had a mining company actually. But it…”

Fíli smiled briefly at his nervous chatter and put down his pen, feeling he had strayed too far into personal conversation. He stood abruptly and awkwardly

“I’m just going to grab a glass of water, are you sure that you—” 

“I’m fine, really,” she said.

He nodded and slipped out of the office, striding to the sink on the inside wall of the forge. He grabbed a Garfield mug and half-filled it with water. He downed it then stared at the orange cat, which decorated it.

“You really don’t like Mondays,” he said to the mug before setting it in the sink, “you and me both, cat.”

He turned, almost right into Thorin, to his surprise.

“Who the hell are you talking to?”

Fíli smiled with embarrassment, and the two went into the office and settled behind the desk.

The interview was very standard from what Fíli could tell. His uncle asked the young woman questions and she answered in turn. Fíli felt there was little reason not to hire her. Apparently Thorin agreed.

“Alright, Tauriel. You’re hired. Come in on Wednesday and I’ll show you around and we’ll get your schedule together,” said Thorin.

She stood and reached out to shake his hand, and he returned the handshake with surprise. She shook Fíli’s hand once more and left.

“What did I just do?” asked Thorin.

“You hired Tauriel. I thought you were going to anyway,” said Fíli.

Kíli poked his head into the office.

“Did you hire her?”

“Yes, Kíli,” said Thorin, somewhat exasperated.

Kíli’s face split with a grin.

“You can’t sleep with her. She’s your co-worker now,” said Fíli humourlessly.

Kíli just shrugged and smiled.

11 October 2013

“So you didn’t want to hire her?” pressed Baggins.

“I’m not really sure,” said Thorin.

“Do you think she had something to do with the disappearance?”

“I don’t know. If I were to suspect someone…I mean that’s when things at the company started going awry, but I could never pin it on her. I mean financial files missing…but my folder…”

Baggins paused as Thorin Durinson cleared his throat.

“What was in that file?” the PI asked.

“Stuff that I’ve collected over the years…mostly on Erebor Mining Company before it was taken over by Smaug Inc…” Thorin trailed off.

“It was a difficult time,” Baggins prompted.

“My grandfather had died, no one knew what happened to my father. I had no idea what had happened to their shares.”

“Your grandfather died under suspicious circumstances?”

“He couldn’t have hung himself,” Thorin said darkly, “we had plans for my father’s birthday. People with plans don’t…Frerin had gone to pick him up…it was just such a chaotic time, it gets harder to remember the details...”

Baggins allowed Thorin to take a moment to be sure his composure was intact. Thorin sent him a dark glare across the table, cleared his throat and walked out of the room. Baggins was not sure what to make of that.

1 September 2013

“Just how much stuff do you have?” Fíli admonished his brother, steadying the two boxes he carried against the industrial beige of the building's hallway.

“Mum said she wanted it all gone,” Kíli replied, shrugging through the box that he held.

“You’re damn right I want it gone,” said Dís, holding open the door to Kíli’s new bachelor apartment.

Dwalin was seated on battered armchair, a box full of slats spread out on the floor before him and a pictogram of how he was supposed to assemble the bed was crumpled in his hand. He frowned and looked up at Kíli.

“I could build you a better bed for much less trouble than this,” he drawled.

“Yes, but then you’d be missing an important part of student life: assembling IKEA furniture,” laughed Kíli.

There was a knock, or rather a kick at the door. Fíli opened it and grabbed a lamp from atop pile of boxes that Thorin held. Their uncle grumbled as he set down the boxes in the corner and addressed Fíli.

“Your car is empty,” he said, “You might want to move it.”

Fíli nodded and left the apartment as Kíli argued with Dwalin and Dís. Fíli moved his car behind the building and grabbed the last couple boxes from the back of Thorin’s company van. He was very glad that Dwalin had come along to help with the move and that he had taken on the task of assembling the bed. The last time Thorin had attempted such a task there had been tears.

He reached Kíli’s door and pulled it open, but toppled the top box in the process, spilling contents across the floor. He kicked the box of condoms, which had slid across the floor, behind a laundry basket that rested in the entrance. None of them wanted to hear Dís’s prepared lecture on that topic…again.

“I should go back to the shop,” grumbled Thorin amidst his family’s laughter.

“Oh Thorin, stay,” said Dís grabbing her brother’s wrist.

“I can’t. I’ve left Bombur and Ori with Tauriel and she isn’t fully trained yet,” he said.

“Nerd like Bombur can’t talk to a pretty girl like her anyway,” laughed Dwalin.

“Are you coming?” asked Thorin.

“It’s my day off,” said Dwalin.

“I’ll drop him at home,” offered Dís.

“Right,” said Thorin.

He briefly grabbed his dark-haired nephew and hugged him tightly.

“Be good. Come home lots. Don’t do drugs,” he said gruffly.

Kíli smiled, “I will, I will, and I won’t.”

Fíli wondered if Kíli was capable of keeping any of those promises.

Thorin strode to the door, stopping for a moment to speak with Fíli.

“You’re still working tomorrow. Don’t stay out too late with your brother.”

“I know. I’ll be there,” said Fíli, keeping his annoyance buried behind a neutral mask.

Thorin’s heavy footfalls echoed down the hall behind him. Fíli sat down on the floor and passed Dwalin the screws he needed for the bed while Kíli made sure his Internet was working. He set up the TV and immediately began streaming The Terminator.

“Oh Kíli,” said Dís, ruffling her son’s hair.

“Aw, Mum, it's a classic. The bit with the face where he puts the sunglasses on, not bad for the '80s,” he said. 

“I don’t even think that was cool when I was your age.”

“I don’t think it was out when you were my age,” Kíli replied.

Dís reached out and delivered a swift smack to the back of her son's head.

“Oww…this is why I’m moving out!” joked Kíli.

“Be kind! One day you won't have your old mum,” she half-joked.

They finished assembling the bed. On Dwalin’s suggestion they all piled into Dís’s car and went for dinner at a chain restaurant. Dwalin shared several pitchers of beer with Fíli and Kíli as they chatted. Fíli was shocked when he noted that Kíli was hardly drunk, but he already found himself laughing at such stupid things their mother shook her head. Kíli was talking about…well it sounded like philosophy, but Fíli was not entirely sure.

“Shall I drop you off?” Dís offered, as they exited the restaurant.

“We’ll walk, it's a nice night,” said Kíli.

Fíli staggered and giggled, as Kíli grabbed his arm.

“Your father wasn’t much of a drinker either, Fíli,” said Dwalin, patting him on the back. “My god, at his bachelor party...”

“Bad huh?” said Fíli, trying to maintain his composure.

“Three sheets to the wind,” Dwalin laughed, lighting a cigarette.

Fíli nodded, unsure what to say over the buzzing in his head.

“I’m not doing so badly,” said Kíli, albeit a bit loudly.

“You get that from me. Used to drink this one under the table,” said Dís, gesturing at Dwalin.

Dwalin shrugged, humouring their mother Fíli supposed.

She hugged her youngest son in the darkening evening and kissed his cheek. He shrugged away, blushing.

“Mum. It’s not even an hour away,” Kíli said.

“I’m your mother; I worry,” she said.

Dwalin gave Kíli a one-armed hug and stumbled into the passenger seat, Dís laughing at him. They drove off and Kíli and Fíli walked along in the lamplight, stopping at a pub where they each had several shots of whisky.

“Did I have my wallet? I must've I showed the waitress girl my licence...no one ever believes me...” Fíli said checking his pockets.

“Right in front of you, mate,” laughed Kíli.

“Ah. Thought I'd lost it,” he said clasping it on the tapletop.

“You are pissed.” 

“Yes...I don't remember what I changed my PIN number to...” he said fumbling the bankcard out of it's slot.

“It's my round, don't worry,” said Kíli, “we should probably get you home anyway.”

Kíli settled the bill and directed Fíli out onto the street.

“I might vomit,” Fíli warned his brother.

“You don't do this much do you?”

“My roommates took me out to a gay bar once.”

“What, really?” Kíli's face was split with a delighted grin.

“Gregory went home with someone. Alan swears he fireman carried me home. I don't remember a thing after...”

“What?”

“Dancing with some bloke,” Fíli laughed.

“Fíli, is there something you wish to share?” 

“You know my secret: I have fun sometimes. Don't tell anyone! I usually spend Friday evenings studying.”

“Not to be judgemental...but that's just sad. Turn right, we're not crossing here.”

Fíli could barely remember where they were or where they were going.

“Are we in Bree?” he asked his younger brother.

“We’re in Rivendell; I go to school here,” Kíli reminded him laughing.

“I can’t believe you—you’re already in university.”

“We’ll yeah…you’re done after this year.”

“Right…should I work for Thorin? I feel like I want to try my own thing. Maybe grad school. Or law school. Do you think I could be a lawyer?”

“I dunno. Did you ever want to before just now?” asked Kíli.

“No…I think Thorin wants me to run the shop. He’s had it in mind since we were kids,” hiccoughed Fíli, knocking over a trash bin as he stumbled. Kíli caught him under the arms, and put and arm around his staggering sibling, laughing.

“C’mon, only three flights of stairs to my place,” said Kíli.

As they opened the door Fíli giggled and pointed to the laundry basket.

“What?” asked Kíli.

“I hid your condoms from Mum,” snickered Fíli.

Kíli sighed good naturedly, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

“Okay, I think you get a glass of water and bedtime,” said Kíli, directing Fíli to the bed.

He brought a glass of water for Fíli, most of which he spilled down his front. Kíli took the glass away from his brother and put on a DVD. Fíli passed out instantly and Kíli covered him with an afghan. Then he grabbed a blanket out of a plastic bin for himself and curled up beside his brother to watch the movie.

“Kíli,” said Fíli after a round of snoring.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember our father?”

Kíli paused at the question; it was not something sober Fíli would ever bring up.

“I don’t think so, no. Do you?”

“Only that he used to lift me above his head and I would pretend I was Superman,” mumbled Fíli.

Fíli passed out immediately, but Kíli found it rather difficult to fall asleep in the bluish light from the television.

2 September 2013

Fíli awoke to sun streaming in the bare windows and Kíli’s snoring. He held his head for a moment, and then rummaged through a few of Kíli’s boxes until he found something to dull the headache. He took two pills and followed it up with two glasses of water, a quick shower and a vow to eat something greasy from a drive-through.

“Kíli, can I borrow a shirt?” he asked.

His brother groaned and he took that to mean he could. He grabbed a decent enough T-shirt and a grey university sweater.

“Kíli, I’m going,” he said.

“Wait,” muttered Kíli.

“What? Thorin is going to be furious with me if I’m late.”

Kíli waved him closer and Fíli obliged his brother's half-hug.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome…” said Fíli, patting Kíli’s shoulder confusedly.

“Come back soon?”

“I’ll try,” said Fíli guiltily, knowing he would be too caught up in schoolwork to see Kíli before fall reading week.

He grabbed his keys and wallet and gently closed the door. He stopped at the first fast food place he saw, but felt too revolted to eat more than a bite of his hash-brown. He threw it down on the seat and cursed as he got lost on his way to the highway and had to turn around in the parking lot of a auto repair shop. He swore over and over, his head pounding but finally got onto the highway, through he was not entirely sure how he did. He gulped down his orange juice, his wrists resting on the steering wheel as he sealed the bottle and attempted to steer. He was glad that he had awoken early enough to beat the bulk of the morning rush hour.

He arrived at the shop slightly late. Thorin met him with a coffee but he waved it off, his stomach roiling.

“You look like hell,” his uncle smiled. Fíli suspected that his uncle was enjoying his misery more than was really necessary.

“Don’t I know it.”


	3. Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili is hungover. Thorin is paranoid. Someone suspicious is in the coffee-shop across the way.

2 September 2013

Dwalin strolled into the shop a little late that morning, a box of doughnuts in one hand and a paper cup of coffee in the other. Thorin was sitting behind the counter reading the newspaper while Glóin worked away on accounts.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” grumbled Thorin, straightening a page of the paper with partially feigned disinterest. He suspected that Dwalin had not made it back to his own apartment the night before.

Dwalin half-grinned and placed the box down in front of Thorin. Thorin looked up from his newspaper to the doughnut box. Dwalin was fumbling with the tape that secured the box, unable to find purchase with his blunt, tattooed fingers. After a moment of struggling, he enticed Thorin with the open box.

“I got you a crueller,” said Dwalin.

Thorin fixed his friend with a short stare before he begrudgingly accepted the doughnut. Dwalin tipped the box shut and set it on the counter.

“I though Fíli was supposed to be in?” asked Dwalin.

“He’s here,” grumbled Thorin, glancing back into the silent forge.

Dwalin bit at the paper-lip of his empty coffee cup, unrolling the rim. He always did this, biting around the top until the cup looked like a distorted sleeve. Thorin ignored his friend’s habit, and answered the question in Dwalin’s dark eyes.

“He had too much fun with Kíli last night and now he’s trying to act like he’s not hung over.”

“Send him home!” snorted Dwalin.

“Then he won’t learn anything,” said Thorin.

“You’re too hard on the boy; he’s never done anything like this before,” said Dwalin.

“Fíli is twenty-one. That’s hardly a boy. Our fathers would never have allowed us to simply leave a job because we couldn’t hold our alcohol!”

“You don't have to tech him a lesson, Thorin. Not like our fathers.”

“He's being irresponsible.”

Dwalin stared at Thorin sympathetically, knowing how seriously Thorin had taken his role as father figure to the boys. Thorin took a deep breath and flicked at his nail avoiding Dwalin’s eyes. Dwalin offered his open pack of cigarettes but Thorin waved him off.

“You know how long it took me to quit. I have one and it’ll never stop,” sighed Thorin.

“Suit yourself,” said Dwalin.

He tossed out his paper cup and grabbed a smoke for himself, heading through the forge to the back door. He found Fíli sitting on the milk-crate that Dwalin normally reserved for his own smoke-breaks. Fíli sat with his head in his hands, as still as he could manage.

“Didn’t mean to get you so drunk last night,” Dwalin said by means of apology, as he lit up.

“Kíli probably did worse than you,” conceded Fíli.

“You been sick?”

“Only twice,” he grimaced.

Dwalin nodded.  
“  
Seems to me,” he said, “that you’re not entirely used to a night of partying.”

“And my marks reflect it,” said Fíli almost bitterly.

“Your uncle was the same.”

Fíli smiled briefly and stood up. He held the door behind him for Dwalin. When they re-entered the shop they could hear Thorin and Glóin in tense discussion. Dwalin shrugged and went through the pile of custom orders before retreating to the forge, his radio somewhat lower volume than normal. Fíli was grateful.

“Glóin, you’ll have to explain it to me more simply,” Fíli heard Thorin snap through the office door.

“The books…don’t…balance!” said Glóin deliberately.

“And you can’t explain why?”

“Din’ I tell you?”

“Sounds awfully suspicious…” Thorin grumbled.

“They’re suspicious folk!”

Thorin opened the door and addressed Fíli with annoyance.

“Get Nori and Bofur on the phone! Tell them I want to meet with them this afternoon at the coffee house,” said Thorin.

“Beorn’s?” clarified Fíli.

“Yes,” snapped Thorin.

Fíli winced as his uncle slammed the office door.

oOo

Thorin sat moodily in the corner table of the dark coffee house. It was poorly marketed as a coffee house and it still resembled the bar from which it had been converted. Beorn had not even removed the grubby pool table. Currently a group of twenty-somethings in tight pants and ugly sweaters were playing pool and laughing.

“Hipsters,” said a voice with a note of amusement.

“Have we met?” Thorin asked the stranger, who was sliding in to the seat across from him with a cappuccino.

“No, I think not.”

“I’m waiting to meet two of my staff,” Thorin told him.

The old man smiled, sipping his cappuccino. Thorin could not understand why he had not left and Thorin cleared his throat impatiently.

“I was an acquaintance of your father’s, Thorin Durinson,” said the stranger, noting Thorin’s impatience.

Whatever Thorin had thought he would say to this fellow dried up in his mouth. He cleared his throat again and nodded.

“I have an associate at the university who has uncovered something rather…interesting,” he said in a low voice.

“You’re a professor then,” said Thorin numbly.

“They call me that…yes,” he mused to himself, as though he had forgotten, “Professor Gandalf Grey.”

“What did they find?” asked Thorin.

A person? A body? Anything to bring his family real closure

“It’s not what you think,” said Gandalf in a low voice.

“Well?” asked Thorin impatiently.

“This is my office at Ered Luin University,” said Gandalf, slipping a small scrap of paper across the table.

Thorin stared at it with scepticism.

“You would do well to meet me there on Friday evening, before the sun sets,” said the professor.

He got up, and Thorin caught a faint skunky smell from the old man’s clothes as he left the table. Thorin stared at the long, grey ponytail even as Bofur held the door for the old man to exit the building.

“Well he was quite the feller wasn’t he?” said Bofur, taking up Gandalf’s seat with a dimpled grin. He looked down at the half-drunk cappuccino that the old professor had abandoned. “Judging by the smell of him, he got the munchies and forgot about this?”

“You went to Ered Luin, didn’t you?” Thorin asked, ignoring Bofur's speculations on the sobriety of the old man.

“On and off, as it were.”

“He teaches there,” said Thorin.

“Never seen him,” said Bofur.

“Nor have I.”

“Though that explains the get up. Jeans and elbow patches,” Bofur guffawed, tugging his own ear-flapped hat and pushing up his heavy-framed glasses.

“Indeed,” said Thorin with the smallest twitch of his lip.

Nori sat down stoically beside Bofur a few moments later. He ran a hand through his slicked back hair and faced Thorin.

“Have either of you ever done any contracts with Mirkwood Industries?” asked Thorin in a low voice.

Nori shook his head.

“I consulted there for a year,” said Bofur.

“Why did you stop?” asked Thorin.

“Contract ended; wasn’t my crowd if you get my meaning.”

“I don’t,” said Thorin.

“Crazy business types. Work so hard they have no souls left. I swear they must be vampires, don't sleep or anything. Work all day and all night.”

The corner of Nori's mouth twitched, though he maintained his stoic mask through Bofur's absurdity.

“Vampires?”

“Sure, they don't sleep, right?” Bofur intoned.

“Vampires sleep. That's why they have coffins.” 

Thorin cleared his throat pointedly.

“Why are you asking about Mirkwood?” asked Nori.

“Gentlemen, this conversation cannot leave this table,” said Thorin gravely.

Bofur nodded agreeably, and Nori inclined his head curtly.

“I mean it. Don’t say a thing at the office.”

“Dwalin?” asked Bofur, eyebrows raised.

“It would be better if he didn’t know about this either. I need some information on the company and I wish to contract you to help me with that,” he said.

Bofur’s smile faded and he looked thoughtful.

“I never did care much for those white-haired bastards,” he confessed.

“This will probably be somewhat illegal,” said Thorin.

“Then I’m certainly in,” said Bofur with a grin.

“Professional ethics mean nothing to you?” Nori asked ironically.

“You hack computers for a living,” Bofur reminded him.

“Still,” countered Nori.

Bofur shook his head as though he could not believe his good fortune.

“Well how that contracted ended…” he said, “it was rather without warning…”

“They fired you,” said Thorin with a ghost of a smile.

“You might say it that way, yes.”

“What about you, Nori? In?” asked Thorin.

He nodded.

Thorin shook hands with both briefly and glanced at the time.

“We’ll be in contact shortly,” he said, leaving abruptly.

Nori sat in stunned silence. Bofur was less fazed.

“Buy you a drink?” he offered.

“I don’t drink coffee in the afternoon; keeps me up,” said Nori.

“Nah, a real drink at The Pony. I have a wager on the game and I won’t make it back to my mate’s pub to catch it.”

Nori nodded agreeably and the two set out to the pub across the way.

oOo

A few doors down at Thorin & Co. Fíli tried over and over to start his car. It did not make a sound and he slumped down in the driver’s seat, his forehead resting on the steering wheel. His mother had been right about how close to the end his car was, and it could not have broken down at a more inconvenient time.

Fíli no longer felt sick to his stomach, but he was drained from the day and the pain in his head was thumping right along with his heartbeat. He had planned on stopping to say goodbye to his mother and picking up his belongings, before returning to his room in the house he shared with several other students in Dunland. The light on his phone flashed and he noticed a message from Kíli.

Thinking of getting a cat…

He dropped the phone into the cup holder. Clearly, Kíli was not enjoying the solitude of his own place as much as he thought he would. He would feel better when classes started tomorrow. Fíli knew he would also feel better once he could see his syllabi and start on the proper readings. His whole world felt disorganised the night before school started and…this…everything…it was not helping.

He laughed at himself silently. He laughed bitterly, hitting the steering wheel with the side of his fist. Laughing hurt so much. He rubbed his eyes and inhaled slowly to calm himself fearing he might cry in frustration. He started at a knock on his window. It was Thorin.

He opened the door and stepped out. His uncle looked more concerned than angry. He gripped his nephew’s shoulders with his hard hands.

“Are you alright, Fíli?” he asked, glancing at the car.

“My car won’t start, I have to say goodbye to Mum, and I have to get to school…”

“It’s alright,” said Thorin, guiding him by the arm to his own car.

“What about my car?” Fíli asked roughly.

“I’ll take care of it. Just take the bus back in a weekend or two and you can come get it” said Thorin.

He opened the passenger door and nudged his nephew into the seat. Fíli handed his own keys to Thorin. His uncle’s demeanour had softened considerably since that morning, it seemed. Perhaps Fíli looked more pathetic than he felt.

“Can you make sure mine’s locked?” Fíli asked.

Thorin clicked the “lock” on the remote key and the world erupted in flying bits of metal and a brief, bright explosion. Thorin yanked his nephew down out of his seat and onto the pavement with him behind his own car. After a few seconds he stood. Fíli’s car was nothing but a burning wreck and both Thorin’s car and the company van were peppered with shrapnel and had lost several windows between them.

Thorin ran his shaking hands through his hair. He glanced down at his nephew who had risen to his knees and gaped blankly at the wreck through Thorin’s glass-less driver’s side window.

“I think I left my phone in there,” Fíli said absently.

Dwalin burst from the building. The green door hung open behind him as he took in the scene.

“Thorin! What the f…” Dwalin trailed off, looking from Fíli to the burning wreck.

“Is everyone okay?” hollered Bofur, who had come running from the café with Nori. The two stood in mute shock on the sidewalk.

“Nori, call the fire department,” said Dwalin calmly, taking control of the situation.

Nori complied. Bofur stood frozen at the scene in disbelief, clearly wanting to help but unsure how. Thorin just stared grimly at the burning wreck where his nephew had sat only moments before. This had surely been an intentional near miss, but Thorin could not fathom why his nephew would be attacked; his family had lost their mining company before Fíli was born. Things like this had sometimes happened to Thorin and his siblings, but Fíli? He was no heir.

Fíli sat back on the ground and pressed his fingers into his eyes. Dwalin knelt before him, clenching his shoulder in his heavy hand.

“Fíli, it’s alright,” he said gruffly.

“I know,” Fíli said dully.

“I think you might be in shock,” said Dwalin grimly.

“I’m just having a very bad day.”

“You’re not going to school tomorrow,” said Thorin.

Fíli nodded. This was the first time in his life skipping classes sounded like a relief.


	4. Disrupted Quotidian Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The business is closed for investigation. Thorin notices something suspicious about the office. Fili is understandably jumpy.

11 October 2013

“I don’t know what my uncle thought,” Fíli told Baggins.

“Has he ever mentioned anything like this?”

“He mentioned that his brother…Frerin…his death was suspicious, but that was back in the eighties. My great-grandfather was supposed to have hung himself; my grandfather disappeared, all within three years.”

“And your father?”

“Car crash, when I was three…just something—it’s n…but he had no hand in the business. My parents were married after it was taken over,” said Fíli.

“What about Dwalin?”

“What about him?” asked Fíli, confused.

“Did he have a role in the company?”

“I doubt it. He was in the military for a long time, got out after serving in the Gulf War. That’s what he said once, anyway…but I think that his brother Balin worked in their legal department. You’d really have to ask Thorin.”

“Oh I will if he comes back,” said the PI in a tone that was light and sarcastic.

5 September 2013

Thorin had stopped by Dís’s bungalow every day since the incident with Fíli’s car. He had opted to keep the store closed for a few days while the investigation continued. Dwalin had joined him at the bungalow most evenings and they together assured Dís that the police were making every effort to track down the perpetrator.

The night had been difficult after the explosion. Thorin and the staff who had been at the scene were interviewed by the police and then harassed by camera crews as they left the station. Fíli was exhausted after the ordeal and Thorin (after prising him from Dís’s tearful grip) walked him right to his bed, warning Dís that he needed to rest. Dís peeked in on him regularly but did not step through the door, fearful that she would startle him awake.

Thorin had phoned Kíli so that he would not learn the news through the reporter’s lens.

“Can I speak to him?” Kíli asked, horrified.

“He’s asleep,” said Thorin.

“I really need to speak to him,” said Kíli sounding slightly panicked.

“You can speak with him in the morning,” Thorin sighed.

“I’ll call him right now.”

“Don’t bother, his phone was in the car.”

“Thorin….”

Thorin had known that his conversation would be sidetracked like this.

“Kíli. Listen to me. Don’t stay out late or wander around drunk. Stay at home, make sure your door is locked, and don’t wander through the bad side of Rivendell, who knows what Mirk—who could be hanging around.”

“You think it’s Mirkwood?”

“I didn’t say that and you don’t go around saying that!” snapped Thorin.

“Fíli’s really okay though?”

“He is,” promised Thorin.

“Okay,” said Kíli nervously.

“Put on a movie and go to bed,” suggested Thorin.

“Okay, fine. Goodnight.”

Thorin stayed on Dís’s couch that night.

Kíli was understandably shaken and had called his mother after only two days of classes asking to come home for the weekend. Dís agreed that she would pick him up on Thursday evening when he expressed uneasiness about taking the bus. Dwalin agreed to go with her, as she too was nervous about travelling.

Thorin contacted both Nori and Bofur to arrange a meeting at his own apartment for Thursday night when Dís and Dwalin would be out. He had stopped briefly at the shop Thursday morning to pick up the documents that had stumped Glóin to see if he could make any further sense of them. He noticed that the file-cabinet had several gaps, and began searching to see if the files were left out around the office.

He noted that the papers that were missing were from 1999-2007, records of sellers and buyers. These were not files from Dwalin’s so called “Klingon-lovers”, but the files from the other businesses they supplied, and the companies from whom they had purchased gems and metals.

His blood ran cold as he noted the absence of an old folder he had been keeping: the file on Erebor Mining Company and his grandfather’s murder. He immediately checked the front door for signs of force and found nothing. The back door was similarly undamaged. He went on the computer, and sat for a moment realising he had no idea how to access the CCTV recordings. He sighed and called Fíli—who had remained at his mother’s house since the incident—on Dís’s landline.

“Fíli? I need to know how to access the security cameras on the computer,” he said.

“Are you on yours or the front one?”

“Mine.”

“You can only get it on the front one.”

“Kíli said he hooked it up to both,” said Thorin with annoyance.

“Oh he tried. Is this for the investigation?”

“…Yes.”

Fíli talked his uncle through the procedure and Thorin, who thanked him and spent some time rewinding through the footage. They had only two cameras: one outside the front door, and one just inside the back door of the forge. He noticed the light in the office flick on in the feed from the forge-camera, but nothing was showing except for fuzzy shadows on the front one.

He went out to inspect the dark half-globe and saw a silt-like dust covering it. He reached up with a broom and dusted it off, with a grumbled curse. It was no wonder that the police had found nothing. Whatever was covering it had probably been there for weeks; possibly all summer.

Thorin gathered his files, dropped them at his apartment and decided to check on his nephew. Fíli was still in his room, but said hello as he stepped into the kitchen for a snack and returned to his sanctuary. Thorin took advantage of Dís’s cable while he awaited his meeting; turning over the implications of these missing files as the pre-lunch game shows assaulted his eyes with their garish colours.

oOo

Dís had just returned from work to find Thorin chain-smoking in the garage. He froze, staring at her guiltily. He had not expected her home an hour early.

“You said you’d quit,” she said to him

“Dís…”

“Give me one,” she said, grabbing the pack from her brother.

She borrowed his lighter and lit up. Standing beside him in her pinstriped suit and high heels she was still only to Thorin’s shoulder. She rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand, her other arm wrapped around her waist.

“How am I supposed to make them feel safe?” she said.

“We managed,” Thorin said.

“We were older, maybe we were smarter.”

“We weren’t; not much.”

Dís swallowed hard.

“I’ve sheltered them too much,” said Dís.

“We both have.”

“I’ve been thinking of Frerin so much lately,” she said, rubbing a hand across her forehead.

“So have I,” confessed Thorin.

“I feel sick. It was the worst day of my life, but if anything ever happened to the boys…”

“Dís, you know I’ll do anything I can to keep them safe,” said Thorin.

“I know. You always have,” she said sadly, “but they go off and do their own things now. We’re not just watching them after school or making sure they don’t fall in the pond feeding ducks. They have their own lives, and should they really stop living them because of this?”

“I think Fíli may have,” said Thorin.

“What?”

“I’ve been here almost all day. He’s left his bedroom exactly twice. He’s just typing away.”

“I was worried about this. I spoke to him yesterday…”

She looked at Thorin expectantly.

“No…”

“He listens to you more than me,” she said.

“Fíli only ever does something because he wants to.”

“Then just find out what’s wrong with him.”

Thorin sighed and dropped his cigarette butt into the empty coffee tin he had been using as an ashtray. He entered the house through the garage and knocked on Fíli’s door. He waited a long time but there was no answer. He knocked louder.

“Fíli, I’m coming in. You’d better not be doing anything you don’t want to talk about.”

“It’s fine, I’m reading,” Fíli said.

Thorin opened the door to find Fíli laying on top his made bed, reading off of his laptop. The room was as neat as ever, save for the plate of crumbs on the desk. Thorin cleared his throat and sat down at the desk in the swivel chair.

“Fíli. Are you…”

Fíli looked at him for a moment, closed the laptop and set it down on his nightstand, pushing the lamp and two books to the edge of the table as he did so.

“When do you want to go back to school?” said Thorin.

“I emailed my professors and got the course-outlines. I found a couple of the books online. They know what happened, they’re not upset or anything…”

“I think you know that’s not what I mean.”

Fíli sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the twin bed. He met Thorin’s gaze for a moment, then looked away uncomfortably.

“It’s alright to be afraid,” said Thorin.

“It’s not that…well maybe a little that…”

Thorin waited for Fíli to gather his thoughts.

“What if I had been in there? What if you hadn’t been on the opposite side of your car? I just keep running over everything in my mind. It was such a close shave…and who would want me dead?”

“I don’t think they wanted you dead; they would have hooked the explosives to the starter…I think they were trying to send me a message,” said Thorin grimly.

“Who are “they” and what message do they want you to get?” asked Fíli, clenching his hands between his knees.

“This sort of thing used to happen when Thrór had the mining company. There are a few companies out there who play dirty…and sometimes it’s just people who want a ransom for heirs of big business…”

“But we’re a tiny business. We have nothing to do with Erebor,” said Fíli edgily.

“Fíli, look. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I don’t want them to think they can take you away from us this easily.”

Thorin stared meaningfully at his nephew and Fíli took a deep breath and nodded.

“I’ll go back to my place this weekend,” he resolved.

Thorin nodded and got up to leave.

“Thorin?”

He stopped, his hand on the doorknob.

“Will you still drive me though? Mum’s been a bit much since…this whole thing,” he trailed off.

“Alright, but I can only do it Saturday night.”

“Thanks, Uncle.”

Thorin grumbled and closed the door behind him as he left.

oOo

It was twilight. Thorin narrowed his eyes at the no smoking sign in the rental car and put the pack back inside of his jacket pocket. He was almost home; he convinced himself that he could make it. After all, he had gone almost four years without them before this week.

As he pulled around to the back of the building his headlights caught a dim figure standing around the side of the low-rise. Thorin parked and got out of the car. The figure stood with his back and one foot against the building, his moustached face lit by the LED screen of his phone. Thorin lit a cigarette and approached him.

“Nori’s going to be late,” said Bofur, putting his phone back in his jacket pocket.

“Hm,” Thorin acknowledged. 

“I have a contact in Mirkwood head office,” said Bofur with a slow smile.

“How did you manage that?”

“Oh you know, just turned on the charm.”

“I don’t know if some woman you’re sleeping with is a good source,” said Thorin pragmatically.

“No?” asked Bofur, pulling a white USB from his inside pocket and handing it to Thorin.

“I haven’t told you what to get from there yet,” said Thorin.

“Call me an opportunist. Bird met me in a bar…incidentally the bar is strategically located next door to their head office,” said Bofur.

“I don’t want to know the details on how you got this,” said Thorin.

“You won’t get anything off of there. I’ve tried,” said Bofur.

Nori joined them like a shadow, his eyes reflecting the streetlight in front of the building.

“Let me have a crack at it,” said Nori reaching for the USB. Thorin pulled his hand back, concealing it.

“Upstairs,” said Thorin.

The three entered the apartment and set up at the kitchen table. Nori worked on cracking the USB with his laptop, Thorin and Bofur went through the files from the shop. It was slow work. Thorin ordered Chinese take-out, which they picked at until after midnight.

“I’ve got something,” said Nori.

Thorin and Bofur stood behind him looking at the screen. They both stared in confusion at the grid of numbers.

“What is that?” asked Thorin, at length.

“Well…I dunno really. But I can work on it from home—”

“No. Leave the USB with me. Come into the office tomorrow and work on it. Dwalin and Bombur will be catching up on internet orders so we’ll have you come in and work on some issues I am having with the website,” he said meaningfully.

“I could do that,” agreed Nori.

They parted for the night, Thorin locking the door behind the two. He fell asleep on the couch to a TV infomercial.

oOo

Fíli had braved the living room after Thorin and his mother had left. Something about the concern that Dwalin had had on his face when he peeked into his bedroom earlier made Fíli feel childish. His uncle’s friend had greeted him cordially enough, but a horrible recognition seemed to linger in Dwalin’s eyes. Fíli had remembered his mother saying something about Dwalin suffering from what Fíli assumed was post-traumatic stress following the end of his military career. Fíli convinced himself he could not let this incident grind his life to a halt as he aimlessly flicked through the channels.

His heart nearly burst from his chest as he heard keys in the side-door and he leapt to his feet almost involuntarily. Hearing the voices he realised that it was only his mother, Dwalin and Kíli. He walked towards the door, rubbing his palms on his jeans. As the door opened Kíli fairly pushed past his mother upon laying eyes on his brother and grabbed Fíli in a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s okay, Kíli. I’m fine,” he said, a little embarrassed.

He could see that Dwalin was pretending not to notice Kíli’s outburst as he took a seat at the kitchen table and skimmed the newspaper.

His brother let him go.

“Kíli, take your laundry downstairs and do it now,” said Dís.

“Mum, I just got here…”

“I’m not doing it for you,” she said.

Kíli grabbed the duffel and Fíli followed him down to the basement. As Kíli sorted through his band t-shirts and jeans Fíli wondered how his slob of a brother could have so much laundry after less than a week.

“You haven’t said anything,” Kíli said.

“I don’t know what to say,” said Fíli.

Kíli started the laundry and they retreated to the next room, sat on the ancient sofa and turned on the videogame console. Neither proceeded to start the game.

“When Thorin called me…I was so scared,” said Kíli.

“To be fair, I think he was calling to say that I was alright.”

“It doesn’t matter, Fíli…”

“It’s okay.”

“You keep saying that, but it’s not.”

“You don’t need to get emotional about it. I mean it happened to me and I’m not falling apart or anything.”

“Did you go to school this week?”

“…no…”

“Fíli, you love school! You were on the Dean’s Honour Roll last year, so don’t even tell me that missing a week of classes is you being normal.”

“I’m going back on the weekend,” said Fíli, scrolling through the options of the game, avoiding eye contact with his brother.

“You don’t have to always be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like nothing matters. You act just like Thorin.”

“Well you act just like Mum,” Fíli shot back.

“Because I say what I feel?”

“You say anything that crosses your mind.”

Kíli looked at him with a sort of disbelief that made him look very much like a child under his dark stubble.

“What happened to you?” Kíli asked.

“Nothing happened to me.”

“You never used to keep anything from me!”

“Well…I grew up, I’m sorry,” said Fíli defensively.

“You left.”

“What?”

“When you went to Dunland. You left and you never came back. You sat on the cot in your res and you cried when we left. You didn’t want Thorin or Mum to see but I did…and that was the last time I saw you,” said Kíli.

Fíli looked at his brother in shock. That was what Kíli thought? Fíli’s stomach plummeted with guilt. His first day at university had been terrifying. He had been away from home before certainly, but the horrible feeling of being in a city which he did not know, with no one he had ever met, had the introverted teenager on the edge of panic. He had quickly resolved to stop crying and steeled himself for the uncomfortable process of trying to make new friends, burying his feelings in his schoolwork.

“I’m sorry.”

Kíli did not reply.

“Kíli. I didn’t mean to shut you out. It was just easier to stay…detached. You’ve been away at university, you know what it’s like.”

“It didn’t bother me, this whole…I dunno, you being like this. Well maybe at first a little…but not really until I remembered that…”

Kíli wiped his palms across his eyes. Fíli put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, horribly reminded of their childhood. Kíli had always worn everything on his sleeve, and Fíli so envied him.

“I didn’t say goodbye to you on Monday when you left,” Kíli sniffed. “I’m sorry…I haven’t really slept since Thorin called.”

“It’s alright. Kíli you said goodbye,” Fíli said.

He wrapped his arms around his brother as he cried, absently rubbing Kíli’s shoulder. Fíli wondered if he too should be crying, but felt strangely removed from the situation. Mostly, he hoped that if Dwalin were still upstairs he would not come down and see this mess.


	5. Unheimlich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin pays Gandalf a visit at the university. Tauriel learns why you should never add your boss to Facebook. Fili can't hide from the world forever.

6 September 2013

Thorin entered Mithril Hall at Ered Luin University that evening. After consulting Bofur on the geography of the campus he learned that he had to go from this elegant rotunda to a blocky brutalist building simply called East Building. Thorin stepped into the elevator, noting someone had managed to dispose of a mangled coffee cup in the plastic grille that protected the light on the elevator’s ceiling. Thorin stepped out and followed the numbers down the hall to 2116 and knocked on the door.

“One moment,” came a voice from inside.

There was a great deal of shuffling before the door opened and Gandalf ushered him quickly in and closed the door behind him. Thorin’s nostrils were assaulted with a pungent herb smell and he looked around the room to the tiny open window and back to the professor.

“I apologise for the mess. I was sent from the West Building over to the East while I am working in the Humanities department,” he said.

“I was not concerned with the mess,” said Thorin.

“Ah. Glaucoma,” said Gandalf.

Thorin said nothing.

“Please, have a seat,” said the professor.

Thorin sat in the olive-green plastic and chrome chair while Gandalf settled behind his desk. The professor disappeared for a moment to pull an envelope from the bottom drawer of his desk and then handed the manila envelope to Thorin. Thorin got up to leave, but Gandalf stopped him with a word and he quickly returned to the seat. Somehow the old man seemed dark and menacing when he spoke in that second.

“Thorin, it is not really about your father,” he said.

“Then what have you given me?”

“It is a confession that I managed to…acquire…among other things.”

Thorin pulled out the pages and was confronted with a colourless crime scene photo. It was his brother, Frerin on the floor of a warehouse. His neck was rent with a fine gash and horrible bruises. Thorin dropped the envelop on Gandalf’s desk. In his memory of the morgue where he identified his brother he could only remember the pale skin, the blood matted in his brother’s sandy hair, the smell of chemicals. He could never recall having seen his brother’s face, and perhaps only identified him by the eagle tattooed on his pectoral.

He did not tell his sister that their brother had been garrotted, simply that the death was suspicious. Balin used his connections to suppress as much information on the nature of the crime as he could. They had never been able to identify who had killed his younger brother, and the desire for justice had burned him slowly from the inside.

“Is this my brother’s killer?”

Thorin pulled the confession from the envelope. A man named Tony Grud, had confessed to Gandalf that he had been hired by man named Bolg to terminate Frerin, Dís, and Thorin Durinson but failed to complete the contract. Thorin’s hand shook as he read his own name.

“Wh…” Thorin cleared his throat, “What stopped him from killing me and my sister?”

Gandalf looked grimly at the file and Thorin turned to the next page. Grud was lying on a metal table for autopsy. Thorin noted that he seemed to be a double amputee, both arms cut off at the elbow.

“He was in an accident?” asked Thorin.

“More of an incident…with your father.”

“My father killed him?”

“Oh no…although I am sure he wished to...it seemed he thought this more fitting. Grud died only a week ago. Your father had set out to find Thrór’s killer…it seemed he may have been close enough to the criminal circle to find Grud and avenge his son’s death in the course of his investigation.”

“He cut off his arms,” said Thorin numbly, his throat burning with bile.

Gandalf nodded.

“What became of my father?”

“He was spotted wandering near the Old Forest in 1989…but there have been no such sightings of him since and no evidence of him alive or otherwise,” said Gandalf grimly.

Thorin stared at the horrible documents on Gandalf’s desk. The justice—for which he had yearned for so long—felt hollow and tinged with bile as he looked from Frerin’s cold face to Grud’s mangled arms. The horror that his father’s madness had driven him to torture and mutilate another person left Thorin feeling dazed.

“Shortly before your father’s sighting there was a case that has remained unsolved—likely because pursuing it would reveal that your father had been killed by a criminal group. A VP from Fire Worm Industries was found in a ditch in Buckland. He was alive, but had nearly died of blood loss from having lost his right arm.”

“You think this was my father’s work?”

“It was shortly after Fire Worm Industries had been acquired by Smaug Inc.; an unlikely coincidence if you ask me,” said Gandalf.

“You believe in coincidence?”

“Certainly, but I don’t trust coincidence.”

“May I?” asked Thorin, gathering the material back into the envelope.

“Of course,” said Gandalf.

“How did you come by all of this?” asked Thorin, still numbly collecting Frerin’s last photo.

“Mostly through my research,” the professor replied.

“And that is?”

“Oh, I had been long devoted to criminal psychology…but it takes a toll on the mind and the soul…I have recently eased into a history of unsolved crimes in pre-Norman England.”

Thorin nodded his quick thanks and stumbled back down to his car. As he was driving home he recalled that he had meant to ask Gandalf if he knew of any connection to the attack on Fíli’s car. He knew where the old man was now at any rate; he could pursue that matter once he had calmed himself.

He parked the rental car in the lot and ascended the stairs to his place. He unlocked the door to his apartment, set the file on the coffee table, and lit a cigarette. He sat on the sofa, lighting his next cigarette from the orange glow of the last. The silence seemed so loud in the apartment as he stared at the envelope.

He pulled out his phone: one message from Dís about his absence at dinner when she had been expecting him. He ignored it and scrolled through his contacts aimlessly. He could not tell Dís, not with how worried she already was and how hard he had tried to protect her for twenty-five years.

Dwalin Fundinson. His thumb lingered over his best friend’s name. How badly he wanted to press the call button and hear the reassuring baritone on the line. He could not call Dwalin about the envelope. Not after hiring Nori and Bofur without even mentioning that there was something wrong with the books in the first place.

He dropped his phone onto the coffee table and buried his face in his hands with a shudder. He took a few calming breaths and drew his fingers back through his hair, long like Frerin’s had been when he died. The horror of the night turned over and over in his mind, leaving Thorin sleepless.

7 September 2013

“Are you still working on the website?” Dwalin asked Nori with annoyance.

“Thorin wasn’t happy with it when I left yesterday,” said Nori.

“That happens when you wank your shift away,” Dwalin grumbled.

“Sorry Dwalin, didn't catch that?”

Dwalin cast him a withering glare. Nori opened his laptop at the side table where he generally worked. The desk was covered in Ori’s printouts from the evening before. He unceremoniously shifted them back onto his brother’s half of the table.

The doorbell tinkled and Bombur strolled around the counter and into the office.

“Mornin’ lads,” he said.

He picked up the orders that Dwalin had printed and headed back to fire up the forge. Nori continued to fake some work while Dwalin shifted through papers on the desk. It was unlike Thorin to be this late, Nori thought uneasily.

Tauriel entered, smiling brightly.

“Good morning,” she said.

Nori lifted his hand in means of greeting. Dwalin grunted his greeting, unlocked the safe and handed her the cash envelope for the register. They could hear her counting silently through the bills as she set up for the day. The phone rang in the office nearly startling Nori to death. Dwalin let it ring twice and then answered it.

“Thorin & Co., Dwalin speaking,” he rumbled.

Nori continued working at the website formatting, though there was very little it needed. What he really wanted was for Thorin to come in and get Dwalin out of here. And to give him the USB so that he could work in peace.

“Oh is that so?” Dwalin scoffed to the phone.

He snapped his fingers at Nori and pointed to the door. Nori begrudgingly closed his laptop and left the room, closing the office door behind him. He found himself standing beside Tauriel, who was checking off the Saturday duties list as she completed dusting several of the shelves.

“He doesn’t sound too happy,” said Tauriel, with a glance back at the office.

“I think that’s just Dwalin,” said Nori apologetically.

The front door opened and Thorin entered, looking haggard. He looked at the closed office door when he heard Dwalin yell something and slam the phone. That expression of rage was followed by the sound of something (Nori sincerely hoped it was not his laptop) crashing to the floor.

Thorin entered the office and closed Nori and Tauriel outside. Inside the office Thorin looked unhappily at the bookcase that Dwalin had tipped over and the phone that would have to be replaced. Then he looked at his friend, who stood with his thick hands splayed on the desk, huffing for air.

“What’s this about?” asked Thorin, his voice calm in spite of his agitation.

“Mirkwood.”

Thorin did his best to keep his expression neutral.

“What about them?”

“Remember how they tried to buy us out a few years ago?” said Dwalin.

Thorin nodded.

“Their acquisitions guy, Legolas Greenleaf—and shit, is he the biggest asshole I’ve ever talked to—he says they want to make an offer. I rejected it.”

“So?” asked Thorin.

“So…he bought the company we rent the property from, just like that.” said Dwalin.

“That won’t really do anything,” said Thorin.

“Oh, it gets better. He’s already bought up most of our suppliers. This guy is looking for a fight.”

Thorin sat down in one of the chairs at the shared table and rested his head on his hand, tangling his fingers in his hair. Dwalin kicked the desk chair.

“Stop destroying the office,” Thorin said.

“I don’t know what else to do!”

Thorin sighed.

“You look awful,” said Dwalin.

“We should call your brother,” said Thorin, ignoring the comment.

“When did this all start?” Dwalin complained, mostly to himself.

“What did you say the guy’s name was?” asked Thorin, scrolling through his phone.

“Greenleaf.”

“Legolas, right?”

“That’s what he said,” confirmed Dwalin.

Thorin stood, opened the door, and called out to the other room.

“Tauriel can you come in here?”

The young woman entered.

“How long have you worked here?” Thorin asked, resting against the front of his desk, arms crossed.

“A couple of weeks.”

“You’re fired.”

“I don’t think you can actually say that to someone,” she said, clearly in a bit of shock.

“What are you, the HR department?”

“I just mean…”

“You can’t work for us anymore.”

She nodded sadly and left, closing the door behind her. Dwalin’s shocked expression did not even surprise Thorin.

“Don’t you think that was a bit much?” asked Dwalin.

“I think she’s working for them. You said it yourself: what woman would want to work in a shop like this?”

“I—I implied it,” reasoned Dwalin.

“So there.”

“What makes you think she’s working for Mirkwood?”

“Her Facebook profile.”

“What?!”

“Look at this,” said Thorin sliding his phone across the desk to Dwalin. “They’re listed as being In a Relationship, Tauriel and that Greenleaf.”

Dwalin stared at the phone and then stared at Thorin with an expression Thorin was unsure he had ever seen on Dwalin’s face.

“What?” said Thorin.

“Thorin…I think you may be seeing conspiracies where there are none,” Dwalin said.

“What about that doesn’t sound suspicious to you? Dwalin, the books were off this month and Glóin cant seem to figure out why…and several supplier files are missing!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Dwalin in a low voice.

“I wanted to figure it out. I didn’t want you to be worried about missing papers when you needed to be worried about the forge.”

Dwalin nodded abruptly and left through the back door of the forge for a smoke. Thorin paced around the office for a moment. Nori poked his head in cautiously and Thorin handed him the white USB. Then Thorin sighed and followed Dwalin out back, ignoring Bombur’s greeting as he passed through the forge.

“What?” said Dwalin.

“Maybe I want a smoke,” said Thorin.

“What the hell has been going on with you, Thorin?” burst Dwalin.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t sleep, you’re paranoid, you’re smoking again…”

“You mean since my nephew’s car was blown up?” said Thorin stoically.

“I think this started before that,” said Dwalin.

Thorin said nothing and after a while Dwalin just left to go work with Bombur. Thorin could not bring himself to relive everything he had learned the night before in the relative peace of their business. He stared at the narrow strip of gravel and the hedge that grew along the back of the property that bordered the shop.

Eventually Thorin went back inside, Dwalin—busily crafting another sword—had nothing to say to him. Thorin returned to the office and attempted to clean up some of the mess that Dwalin had made. He had been ready to make the other man take care of it himself, but he needed a task to calm himself and organising the office proved to be such a task, keeping him busy well into the afternoon. It also meant he had an excuse to keep an eye on Nori without having to shuffle through papers at his desk.

“Hey Boss, I think I might have something,” said Nori with a hint of a smile.

Thorin looked over the computer, his eyebrows knit.

“What is it?” he asked at length.

“I think Mirkwood is blackmailing Smaug Inc. with their horrendous safety record,” said Nori.

“How the hell did Bofur get this?” Thorin muttered to himself.

“What do you mean? Shagged—”

“Stop. I know he slept with someone for it…but seems a little coincidental…”

Thorin stared at Nori until the other man squirmed uncomfortably.

“Give me the file and get out,” said Thorin.

“Why? I haven’t showed you—”

“Get out,” repeated Thorin.

Nori returned the USB, collected his laptop, and backed out of the office. Thorin stood looking at the USB. He needed to find a third party to crack it. Unfortunately the only person he could think of was Kíli and he was reluctant to drag his nephew into this mess. He was also not entirely confident that Kíli would have the savvy that Nori had taken years to acquire.

For a moment he considered calling Dwalin into the office, and confessing everything to his business partner and friend. The practical side of his mind told him that it might be better if Dwalin could truthfully say that he had known nothing about this ugliness if things went downhill. Someone needed to be around to pick up the pieces of the business and to keep an eye out for Dís and the boys.

Dwalin stepped into the office as though Thorin’s thinking about him had summoned him. Thorin surreptitiously dropped the USB into his shirt pocket and leaned back in the chair to survey Dwalin. His friend looked solemn, still wiping the grime of the forge off of his hands on a rag.

“I was going to clean up,” he said.

“It’s done,” said Thorin.

“It’s been a rough week. Go for a pint?” Dwalin said.

Thorin smiled grimly. He had learned over the years that this was Dwalin’s version of a heartfelt apology.

“I promised Fíli I would drive him back to Dunland tonight,” said Thorin regretfully.

“Well, I’ll stay a bit and make sure we’re caught up. Take inventory. On Monday we can see what we can do about this Jackass Greenleaf problem.”

Thorin nodded and Dwalin retreated into the forge. Thorin stopped in the restroom, catching a glimpse of his reflection as he splashed a little water on his face. The grey in his hair seemed more visible in the florescent light and the grey circles beneath his eyes contributed it the stranger he saw staring back at him. His stomach coiled when he thought of how much he resembled his last memories of his father.

He flicked off the light and went to pick up Fíli.

oOo

His uncle pulled up in front of his the shared student house. One of the girls, Eleanor, had joked that Fíli was left to the mercy of “two girls and two gays” and was the most sought-after roommate. Fíli had smiled and brushed off her comments, usually spending much of his time in the library or in his own room.

The people he lived with were nice enough, but he was dreading the inquisition about the car bomb, which had been thoroughly covered in the news. He recalled the unflattering shot of his exhausted face and how his uncle had pulled him away from the camera and scowled at the reporters. Everything he remembered from that night seemed to be ingrained in some distant memory and replayed like a newsreel where he was simply a spectator, removed.

Reluctant to get out of the car, Fíli was playing with the replacement phone that he and his brother had gone to get the day before. Kíli had not let him back out of going to the mall, and in truth he was thankful his brother had been so stubborn. Fíli had felt the beginnings of panic set in upon leaving the house and walking down the familiar streets, and the mall had amplified it. He had wordlessly turned away from the doors, but Kíli had caught his sleeve.

“You need to,” was all he said.

After seeing that the mall was no more threatening than it had ever been Fíli had begun to feel more relaxed about the entire situation. He did not fear for his life with every step and the fluttering in his chest had stopped…of course he had to suffer through Kíli dragging him through several stores that he was not interested in…and Kíli flirting with every sales girl…but Fíli was feeling something like normal by the end of the ordeal.

Thorin and Fíli stepped out of the car. The street was quiet in spite of the several student houses. Thorin opened the trunk and handed Fíli his laptop case. As Thorin closed the trunk loudly, Fíli walked towards the front steps.

“Fíli,” said his uncle.

He stopped and turned. Thorin looked tired and grave. It was a look he remembered from the earliest days of his childhood; the few years after his father’s death they had lived in their uncle’s two-bedroom flat and Thorin’s face was often marred by a desolation Fíli could neither acknowledge nor understand. Fíli and Kíli had shared bunk beds in the office and Thorin had given up his own room to Dís. In the few years it took for them to get back on their feet Thorin had slept on the living room sofa every night.

Fíli stepped back towards his uncle, his throat tight from the rush of fractured memories. Thorin wrapped him in the most sincere embrace he believed his uncle had ever given another person. Fíli could not help but grip his uncle’s jacket in his hands like he had as a child.

“Please be careful,” Thorin said, his hand on the back of Fíli’s head.

Fíli nodded into Thorin’s shoulder.

Without another word Thorin clapped him on the arm and got back into the car and drove down the street. Fíli was left with the strong impression that the car incident had shaken his uncle far more than Thorin would ever admit.


	6. Played

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company is in trouble. Bofur comes to a realization. Dwalin attends a meeting.

9 September 2013

Monday morning had the regular employees of Thorin & Co. in the office. Dwalin leaned his heavy chair against the wall, his arms crossed over his thick chest; Ori sat cross-legged on the communal table; Glóin was in his usual spot at the accounting desk; and Bombur sat backwards on one of the extra chairs. They all stared at Thorin who took the call on speaker at his desk.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Durinson. The company is under new management,” said the voice on the other side of the line.

“You’ve had our business for ten years,” said Thorin stonily.

“Your account was suspended,” the man said apologetically.

“Fine. Call us if anything changes.”

Thorin ended the call before the man could respond.

The room was silent. Thorin rubbed his temple. The employees looked dejected. The silence was broken when Dwalin slammed forward on his chair and stalked from the room.

“Ori,” sighed Thorin, “were you able to find any more suppliers?”

The young man shook his head.

“The only ones I found were out of country,” he said sadly.

“I crunched the numbers on those,” said Glóin.

“And?”

“The amount we charge per piece would have to increase substantially in order to absorb the extra cost of shipping supplies here…and that’s no guarantee they would even take us on as clients. We might prove too costly for them.”

“Suggestions?”

“We could increase our services to include pawning?” said Bombur.

“I don’t think there’s a big enough market for that on this side of Ered Luin,” Glóin interjected.

“Glóin’s right. It is a bit of a risk. We already have enough enemies without upsetting the local business owners,” agreed Thorin.

“So we do what?”

Thorin looked grim.

“Take lunch. Then Ori, I want you to keep looking online for suppliers. Phone Bofur if you have to. Bombur, make sure the orders are caught up. Glóin…” Thorin sighed, “do your best to assess the value of the company.”

The three looked disappointed by Thorin’s last order, but kept their qualms to themselves as they set out to follow Thorin’s requests. Thorin left the office and walked into the forge. Dwalin was not there, though he had not really expected him to be. He strode through the forge and out the back door where Dwalin was sitting on his milk crate. Thorin sat down on the little paved rectangle and glanced over at his friend.

“I’m tired of this,” said Dwalin at length.

“I know.”

“This used to be why I got up in the morning. Now it’s why I want to stay in bed.”

“We’ve always managed,” Thorin consoled him.

“Yeah but…this…”

Thorin did not respond.

“I think they just want to buy it so they can have less competition for their cheap-ass replicas,” Dwalin complained.

“Probably.”

Dwalin fixed Thorin with a stare.

“Why do you want to give up?” asked Dwalin.

“I don’t…”

“Yeah you do. I can see it all over your face.”

“It’s not that…there’s just…”

Thorin paused.

“What?” asked Dwalin.

Thorin shook his head.

Dwalin grumbled and lit another cigarette.

“I have to meet with someone,” said Thorin after a while.

“I’ll make sure everyone behaves,” said Dwalin sardonically.

Thorin nodded grimly and walked around to the front of the store. His car had been repaired but he had yet to pick it up from the shop. He had been a little surprised that the insurance had covered it, but he was not about to complain. He drove the rental to Ered Luin University, annoyed that he had to pay to park before 5 PM.

He wandered through the campus. He felt self conscious, but did not look that out of place in jeans and a flannel. He made his way though Mithril Hall to East Building and up to room 2116. The door was half-open and the professor seemed to be speaking with a student. Thorin waited, listening as the girl discussed her options for her paper.

As the meeting wore on Thorin wandered down the hall to the snack machine, but became less enthusiastic when he saw how much a chocolate bar was. He was surprised and revolted when the little voice in his mind reminded him how much less chocolate bars had cost when he had been at university. He turned away from the snack machine to see the girl leaving 2116 and he closed the distance to the professor’s door. He knocked at the door and walked in without invitation.

“Thorin, come in,” said Gandalf sarcastically, as Thorin had already approached his desk.

“There was something I wanted to ask you the last time I was here, but I was rather caught off guard and neglected to.”

Gandalf made a small gesture with his hand, inviting Thorin to proceed.

“The car bomb, I assume you heard about it?” said Thorin.

“I could scarcely avoid it. I was at the dry cleaner’s across the street. I submitted my report to the police,” he said.

Something about the thought of Professor Gandalf Grey at the dry cleaners amused Thorin.

“You saw someone?”

“Only your overweight associate rushing to catch the city bus,” said the professor dryly.

“Do you believe that it has anything to do with Frerin or my father?” asked Thorin.

“It seems unlikely given how long ago it happened…but who else would attack your business or your family?”

Thorin shook his head, not daring to mention Mirkwood to the old professor. Gandalf nodded, as though he knew Thorin had something on his mind, but did not ask. Instead he fumbled through a drawer and produced a business card with a bent corner.

“I have a friend who is a private investigator,” he said, smoothing the card and sliding it to Thorin.

“Bilbo Baggins?” Thorin mused.

“Oh he’s quite good, I assure you,” said Gandalf.

“Hm. Thank you for your time,” said Thorin.

Thorin pocketed the card, vowing he would not hire a PI for anything. He had other business to attend to in the meantime.

oOo

“Dwalin! Phone for you!” Glóin called into the forge.

“Isn’t Thorin back?” asked Dwalin irritably.

“Haven’t seen ‘im.”

Dwalin pulled off his heavy gloves and safety glasses and dropped them on Thorin’s desk. He picked up the phone, wiping a sleeve over his balding head.

“Hello. Dwalin speaking.”

“Dwalin, good to speak with you again! Legolas Greenleaf.”

“What do you want?” grumbled Dwalin.

“I wish to meet with you after business hours at The Prancing Pony to discuss your predicament.”

Dwalin looked up at the clock. Legolas sounded as though he was already driving from the megacity to Ered Luin. He would not likely be able to avoid him and Legolas would not hesitate to come to the shop.

“Fine, I’ll see you at five,” said Dwalin.

He cut the call and threw the phone onto the desk. He pulled out his phone and tried to call Thorin. His friend did not pick up so he sent him a quick text.

That bastard from Mirkwood wants to meet. Call me.

Glóin and Ori knew better than to ask as Dwalin left the room, a crash of something in the forge following his departure.

oOo

Thorin left his phone in the car as he took the elevator to Bofur’s home office. Bofur had maintained his status as an independent consultant after working a few long-term contracts in the early 2000s. Thorin pounded on the door with his fist and heard what sounded like Bofur talking on the phone as he approached to door.

“Yes, absolutely...”

As the door swung open, the moustached man took sight of Thorin’s steely expression. Bofur took a step back. His eyes were wide but he remained cordial on his call.

“Know what, email me the details and I’ll get back to you,” said Bofur cheerfully, hanging up on the client.

Thorin grabbed Bofur by the shirt collar and slammed him against the wall, the door swinging shut behind him. Bofur’s cat stopped licking its paw in surprise and retreated into the bedroom.

“Thorin, what the hell?” gasped Bofur.

“I didn’t tell you what to get from Mirkwood, and yet you bring me information that Nori seems to think is useful, information that Mirkwood and Smaug would never want out in the open. How the hell did you get it?”

Thorin had a mad look in his eyes and Bofur’s stomach tightened. In fifteen years he had never seen Thorin look so frightening. He did not fight back, just tried to remain calm.  
“  
I told you. I met a woman who worked at home office. I’ve been staking out the bar since Tuesday night. I knew it was a big Mirkwood hang out because we used to go down there a lot when I worked there.”

“It’s too easy.”

“Thorin, I swear. I couldn’t believe my luck either. She was gorgeous, had a problem with the company, took me up to her office—oh my god I’ve been played…”

Thorin let go and Bofur slid down the wall a little before catching himself.

“It’s a fake…it’s a…” Thorin trailed off.

“I can get in, I can—”

“Don’t…don’t bother.”

Thorin clutched his head and slid numbly down the wall to the floor.

“Thorin…”

“They’re going to take it away from us. They’re going to buy the shop right out from under us and there’s nothing we can do to stop it…” Thorin said to himself.

“What?”

Bofur knelt beside his boss, unsure of what to do.

“Mirkwood, they’re buying up everything…trying to bankrupt us or scare us into selling…”

“You called Balin?”

“He’s overseas working on a dispute for his company. He didn’t even say how long he’d be gone,” said Thorin hollowly.

“We don’t know any other lawyers?”

“We can’t afford any. The finances are a mess and I don’t know why. Glóin has been in every day trying to track down what went wrong…”

“C’mon, don’t sit in the doorway,” urged Bofur.

He gripped Thorin’s arm and lead him to the sofa, grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and pulled out an ashtray. He sat down in the Bauhaus chair adjacent to the sofa and offered Thorin a cigarette from a silver case before lighting his own. Bofur usually smoked only with clients to put them at ease during extended meetings.

“I didn’t imagine your place would be so…minimalist,” said Thorin, taking in the monochromatic room.

“Clients are impressed when it looks like no one lives in your house.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s what they tell me.”

Thorin signed dejectedly.

“It’s fake. They knew you were looking in on them,” said Thorin.

“It’ll be alright. We don’t need to leverage anything on them, just work on keeping them out of the shop.”

“They bought up all of our suppliers and the rental company that owns the property. We must be bigger competition than I thought,” said Thorin.

“For what? What do they do that we would compete with?”

“What don’t they do…this is no world for a business like ours,” said Thorin dejectedly.

Bofur could only agree.

oOo

Dwalin checked his phone. He had called Thorin twice more with no answer and was sitting uneasily in corner the bar.

I am meeting with Greenleaf. I will call you after.

Dwalin was not surprised to see Legolas Greenleaf dressed in an immaculate grey suit, slim cut, designer shoes, bleach-blond hair stylishly a touch too long. The man looked almost androgynous and jarringly out of place in the bar. He shook Dwalin’s hand (Dwalin internally recoiling at the soft skin) and ordered a Manhattan. Dwalin sat back in his chair.

“I’ve come to make you an offer,” said Legolas.

“I’m only half of the business, I can’t accept an offer,” said Dwalin obstinately.

“Well, perhaps you can speak with Thorin,” said Legolas.

Legolas wrote a number on the back of a napkin and slid it across to Dwalin. He looked at it stoically and slid it back.

“I can’t even bring that back to Thorin,” said Dwalin.

“That’s fine. This is what I can offer you now, and next week it will be less because your business will be worth less. And in a couple of months…” Legolas half-smiled at his pending pun, “it will be worthless.”

“You done?” asked Dwalin.

He was keeping his cool admirably. He did not know whether the several whiskeys he had consumed were contributing positively or negatively to that. Greenleaf made that smug little sneer again and the surge of anger let Dwalin know that the whiskey was not in fact helping him.

“We’ve only just begun,” he said.

“Well I’m done,” said Dwalin, getting up.

“Sit, we have other matters to discuss,” said Greenleaf.

“Nope,” said Dwalin, dropping a few bills on the table to cover his tab.

Greenleaf stood.

“It’s already ours as far as we are concerned,” he said. “Accept it.”

Dwalin turned. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was Greenleaf. Maybe it was the whole week he had just lived through with Thorin mentally absent at work, the explosion on their property, running out of materials he needed to fulfil an order that afternoon…Dwalin felt as though he was a spectator to his own actions as his heavy fist collided with Legolas Greenleaf’s face.

oOo

The evening was already getting dark when Thorin left Bofur’s apartment, feeling worn out from the discovery that the USB was no longer helpful. He had thanked Bofur gruffly before heading back down to the car. Opening the door he was surprised to hear his phone vibrating under his leather jacket. He dug it out to see Dís calling.

“Hello?”

“Thorin! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling for almost an hour!”

“Dís, calm down…” he said, surprised.

“No you calm down!” she screamed at him, clearly beyond making sense.

“What’s happened?” he asked her through his annoyance.

“We have to go to the police station. Dwalin’s been arrested!”

Thorin sagged against the roof of the car, his head on the back of his hand. His phone hung limply from his fingers. Dís’s yelling echoed distantly.

“Thorin! Thorin!!!”


	7. Charlie Foxtrot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin becomes increasingly paranoid. Nori has a hunch.

10 September 2013

Thorin bailed out Dwalin the next morning. His friend was silent as Thorin drove him to his apartment. Dwalin had said nothing except for a muttered “thanks” since he had been released. It was Thorin who uncharacteristically broke the silence.

“Why did you hit him?”

“Had one too many I guess,” said Dwalin.

“I find that unlikely.”

“He pissed me off.”

“That seems more likely.”

“Can we stop by the shop? I’ll grab my bike and go home from there,” said Dwalin.

“No, we can open late…doesn’t matter now anyway.”

“It still matters, what about the lads? They’ll be waiting.”

“I’m sure they’ll stop for coffee.”

“Thorin…”

“Look I…need to apologise to you.”

“It’s fine,” said Dwalin awkwardly, “you did come get me.”

“But I didn’t make it to the meeting.”

“You probably wouldn’t have stopped anything. We might have both been locked up.”

Dwalin laughed to himself.

“What?”

“Dís,” said Dwalin.

“What about her?”

“Can you imagine how angry she’d be…” he stopped.

“Dwalin,” drawled Thorin, “no matter how discreet you two may think you are, I’ve been living with you both too long to not notice.”

“She didn’t want the boys to know,” said Dwalin.

“You’ve come over for every holiday for at least fifteen years,” said Thorin.

“Yeah, with you.”

Thorin shrugged not wanting to belabour the point.

“Greenleaf still wants to press charges,” said Thorin.

“Yup.”

“I bet he’d make them go away if we sold him the business,” said Thorin.

“Don’t even consider it,” said Dwalin.

“What if we dissolve the business and start a new one, somewhere else? Change the name?”

“It took us more than fifteen years to get here.”

“We have the experience now.”

“Look, Thorin. Just let me deal with this Greenleaf business. If we can find some new suppliers we’ll be in good shape.”

Thorin waited in the parking lot while Dwalin ran up to his apartment to get himself ready for work. He texted Dís, assuring her that Dwalin was fine and promised to have Dwalin call her.

A short time later, Dwalin jumped back into the passenger seat, and they stopped for coffee on the way to the shop. When they got to work, Bombur and Glóin were waiting outside, looking at a newspaper. They hid it guiltily as Thorin’s car pulled into the lot. Dwalin went around the side of the building to check that his motorcycle was where he had left it. Thorin approached his employees at the door.

“What’s this then?” he asked.

Bombur handed him the paper, folded to the middle.

“No one reads papers,” said Thorin irritably.

“This is the free one they give out on the metro,” said Bombur.

“So they got a whole interview with Tauriel...” said Thorin, skimming the article.

“She might pursue legal action,” said Bombur.

Thorin made an indistinct noise.

“Don’t let Dwalin see this,” he said, shoving it back at Bombur and unlocking the front door.

oOo

Shortly after noon Bofur called the office for Thorin. Glóin had left for lunch a few minutes earlier and Thorin had been just about to do so himself.

“Boss, we’ve got a problem,” said Bofur without a hint of cheer.

“What?”

“I’m not so sure that fake is a fake.”

“The USB?” asked Thorin, pulling it from his pocket.

“Right.”

“How do you figure?”

“That woman I got it from…she turned up dead.”

Thorin was speechless.

“Thorin, I think she was trying to pass it off to me so that whatever got her would chase me instead.”

“You’re being paranoid; this is a coincidence,” said Thorin, staring at the slim piece of plastic.

“You’re right…probably…”

“I’m right,” Thorin assured him.

After he hung up he immediately called Nori, but could not get hold of the hacker. He left him a voicemail, asking Nori to call back immediately.

oOo

Nori had thrown his phone off of the bridge into the river below and was currently on a cross-town bus to see his elder brother. He tried to remain calm, but could not keep from biting his nails to the quick. He walked the few blocks from the bus stop to his brother’s home. His heart pounding he took the steps to the door and rang the bell.  
Dori answered the door with impeccable manners, saw his brother and tried to close it again. Nori wedged himself between the door and the jamb.

“Dori, I need help,” he said.

“You always do!”

“Do you really want to do this on your front step?”

Dori sighed and pulled Nori into the foyer with a quick glance out into lengthening shadows of the street. Nori rubbed his hands compulsively on his thighs as his brother turned to him.

“I’m in trouble,” said Nori.

“What else is new?”

“Dori…”

“Just speak your piece, Nori.”

“I was working on something for Thorin, decrypting a USB. Bofur got it off some woman from Mirkwood Industries…it looked like blackmail, and I wanted to find out more…”

“You wanted to see if you could blackmail the blackmailers,” said Dori knowingly, sardonically.

“Does it matter what I wanted to do?! I haven’t been doing so well! I need the money!” said Nori, a note of panic creeping into his voice.

“What did you do?” Dori pressed on.

“I hacked their systems…I found—”

“Don’t tell me what you found!” snapped Dori, raising his hand.

“They know it was me! I think I’m being followed,” hissed Nori.

“No. No, you did not just bring that to my house,” said Dori.

“Dori…”

“The girls are here, they live with me permanently now. You can’t stay.”

“Where else can I go?” asked Nori.

“I don’t know, but if someone is hunting you down I am not going to let my daughters get caught up in the crossfire.”

“Brother…”

“Don’t! You need to leave.”

Nori swallowed, his throat aching as he held back the emotion that threatened to spill forth.

“Can I say goodbye to them?” Nori asked.

Dori nodded begrudgingly and lead Nori down to the finished basement where the teenaged twins were playing video games. Nori bit his bottom lip for a moment, remembering how excited Dori was when he called him thirteen years earlier to announce their entrance into the world. Dori’s marriage had been nothing more than a year long sham but Dori’s devotion to his daughters had never faltered.

While Nori himself had been mostly uninvolved in their childhood (the girls preferring the much younger Ori anyway to share in their video-gaming) he had kept every single drawing the girls had ever made him, though he would never admit it. He had loved the few times he could bring them presents on their birthday or holidays. They would usually thank him with a quick hug and run off to play their new game with Ori.

He knelt down between them and stared at the screen.

“You two sure like these gory video games,” he said, slightly disturbed.

“Uncle Nori!” said Isabelle, pausing the game.

He smiled at the identical faces; white-blonde hair and grey eyes.

“I’m going away,” he told them.

“Where?” asked Amelia.

He shrugged and tried to smile.

“I wanted to say goodbye first,” he said tightly.

“Bye, Uncle Nori,” they said in creepy unison, turning the game back on.

“No hug?” he asked, dismayed.

They simultaneously reached out and each gave him a half hug, never removing their eyes from the screen. Nori turned and faced his brother and they walked up the stairs.

“They’re thirteen, don’t take them too personally,” said Dori.

Nori nodded, gritting his teeth.

“What?”

“Why can’t you help me?” Nori asked.

“Because it’s not just about you anymore.”

Nori rubbed his hand over his eyes.

“No I get it.”

“Here,” said Dori, slipping some bank notes into his brother’s jacket pocket. Dori gripped his brother in a fierce hug.

“Go somewhere. Be careful.”

Nori nodded and the door shut quietly behind him.

oOo

Thorin had spent much of the afternoon considering the matter of the USB. Nori had not responded, and Thorin could not wait any longer on an answer. He left work early and drove to Rivendell, calling Kíli while en route. When Thorin showed up at Kíli’s apartment his nephew had only just arrived back from class.

Thorin stepped in to find the single room very much as it had been the day they moved Kíli, excepting of course the empty pizza boxes, half a pot of dried-out macaroni and cheese, and a popcorn spill. He looked at his nephew who shrugged.

“You’re an incredible slob,” he said.

“Like your place would pass a health inspection,” chortled Kíli.

“My place is disorganised, not disgusting.”

“Well, what do you need?” Kíli asked.

Thorin pulled out the USB and handed it to his nephew, who headed over to his desktop computer.

“I know hacking is more of a hobby for you,” he said.

“Film is my true mistress, but don’t underestimate my abilities,” he smiled.

“You still have that thing?”

Thorin gestured at the desktop.

“It’s got some games on it,” shrugged Kíli, “I normally use my laptop for everything.”  
“  
Hm…” Thorin acknowledged.

“Where did you get this thing?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Kíli shrugged and carried on, clearly pleased to be working on something so cryptic for his uncle. Thorin straightened the covers on Kíli’s bed before sitting down on it. How his nephew could sleep with popcorn kernels and what he assumed were cookie crumbs in the sheets he could not imagine.

“You said Nori’s already worked on this?” asked Kíli.

“Yes.”

“Well he did do something, wasn’t hard to crack.”

“What is it?”

“A safety report of Smaug Inc.?” Kíli narrowed his eyes at the screen.

Thorin joined Kíli at the screen. There were pages and pages of reports that looked to have been collected by a third party.

“This looks pretty incriminating. Should we really have this?” asked Kíli.

Kíli’s phone vibrated twice on the desk.

“Who’s that?” asked Thorin.

“Just Fíli,” he said.

“You told him?”

“…no.”

“Kíli!”

“I didn’t mean to. He was going to give me a call and I told him that you were coming over and I’d call him after. That’s all.”

“Sorry.”

“Now let’s talk remuneration…”

“You want me to pay you?” Thorin smirked.

“Well you paid Nori.”

“Nori did most of the work.”

“You couldn’t have figured this out without me.”

“Kíli, just remember who started your college fund.”

Kíli ejected the USB and returned it to Thorin, who dusted the crumbs from his pants. He clapped his nephew on the shoulder and left. Kíli stared at the bed where his uncle had been sitting. There had been something a little off. Kíli phoned his brother, rolling his chair over to the TV to play pirated episodes of Doctor Who from his laptop while he spoke with Fíli.

“Hey.”

“Hey. You notice anything weird about Thorin lately?” Kíli asked.

“How do you mean?”

“He’s…I dunno, sort of obsessed with these files that look like they’re from Smaug Inc.”

“Maybe he thinks they had to do with the…thing,” stumbled Fíli.

“Still not calling it what it is, huh?”

Fíli made a sound of disgust, “In my own time…I think you should call Mum about Thorin.”

“He didn’t seem to want anyone to know…”

“And yet you tell me?”

“Well…who are you going to tell?”

“I might tell Mum,” said Fíli.

“Doubtful.”

“You should tell her then. He seemed a little…he wasn’t really himself when he dropped me off.”

“Tauriel sent me a message. Apparently he fired her for no reason,” said Kíli.

“Really?” Fíli seemed sceptical.

“Okay fine, I’m going to call Mum,” groused Kíli.

oOo

“Nori.”

Bofur had known Nori for most of his adult life, having met him at a fairly seedy party near the university. In those years they had shared many pints over a sports game at the bar. He had dropped Nori off at his place a couple of times, but he had not known him to ever come calling at his door.

“I have to tell you something,” said Nori, pushing his way inside.

The guy was a mess. He looked as though he had not slept in at least two nights and his eye was twitching. Nori locked the door behind him and stepped into the hallway.

“What’s going on with you? Thorin texted me asking…”

“You still have your phone?”

“Of course.”

“May I see it?”

Bofur reluctantly handed his phone to Nori who wasted no time pulling out the battery and SIM card, bending the SIM card in half.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Bofur lunged for his phone but Nori held him off with one arm.

“Seriously, mate!?”

“We’re in trouble,” said Nori.

“No no no, you are in trouble because that was my…” Bofur ended his sentence with a huff.

“Bofur, listen. We’re in trouble with Mirkwood. That USB…you tried it here?”

“It didn’t work though,” said Bofur.

“I found a virus on my system, and I’m certain it was from that USB.”

“Virus. What is this? A '90s drama?”

“I’m serious, a data miner. Whatever I did it sent back to them.”

“That’s my work computer…I have everything on there…”

“Yeah well they do too now…how could I have not noticed?!”

“Wh…what are we gonna do about this?”

“I’m leaving. I’m going to the bus station…I just wanted to make sure…”

Bofur nodded.

“Look, they’re probably going after me. I hacked into Mirkwood’s server…I just needed to make sure…”

Nori turned to leave but Bofur grabbed his elbow.

“What made you stop here?” Bofur asked.

“It was on the way,” Nori said, shrugging evasively.

“Let me drop you off,” said Bofur.

“Probably better if you don’t…better in case someone sees me with you.”

Bofur nodded as Nori reached for the door. He paused and turned back to face Bofur.

“Look, if I don't see you…”

He reached out to shake Bofur’s hand, but Bofur pulled him into a quick hug.

“It’s okay, I get it. Take care of yourself, Nori.”

Nori left the apartment and Bofur locked the door behind him. He stared at his tuxedo cat, who sat on the kitchen table, staring back at him judgementally.

oOo

Thorin had spent another sleepless night in his apartment. He thought maybe he had dozed off for a moment or two in the early morning, but was awakened by the sound of his upstairs neighbour getting in late. He had placed the USB on the nightstand and it seemed to be keeping him awake. He tried watching television, but that had proved useless. He had stepped out into the cool night air for a cigarette on his balcony, but that had also not helped.

He sat on the folding chair, watching the traffic on the highway in the distance. The USB weighed heavily on his mind. If it was legitimate he could leverage it against Mirkwood, or even more ambitious, against Smaug. He knew it was mad to think he could bring down either company with this little bit of evidence, but maybe he could extort something from them. Perhaps he could find out Smaug’s involvement in the thirty-year-old case of his grandfather. Still too ambitious, he thought.

He was simultaneously surprised and unfazed when he saw the first rays of the sun creeping up from the megacity to the bedroom town of Ered Luin. He decided to get ready and get into work early; no sense dragging his feet. On his way into work he tried calling Nori again: straight to voicemail. He tried giving Bofur a call as well: also voicemail, but he left Bofur a message asking him to call about the USB.

It was then that Thorin noticed the police car behind him with its lights flashing. The police officer approached his door, and after a brief argument issued him a ticket for being on his phone while driving. Thorin looked at the slip, aggravated, and stuck it in his glove compartment.

When Thorin got to work he sat sullenly behind his desk as Glóin came in to continue his assessment of the company’s value. Bombur was next to arrive, and cautiously entered the office with his metro paper. Thorin fixed him with a glare as the rotund man set the paper on Thorin’s desk.

“Page three,” said Bombur cautiously.

“ ‘Thorin & Co. Partner Arrested for Assault.’ Bombur, this isn’t new. Some cheap bastard just decided to run it today after the slanderous article they published yesterday,” said Thorin dourly.

“It doesn’t look good though, does it?” said Bombur.

“No…don’t tell Dwalin about this one either…” grumbled Thorin, heading to the back door through the forge.

“And get the forge fired up,” he added irately, “we’re behind enough as it is without everyone dicking around!”

Thorin maliciously kicked an empty bucket and slammed the door as he left.

oOo

Bofur had also had a sleepless night. The horrible feeling that he might never see Nori again was overshadowed by the horrible feeling the he too may be pursued. Less than an hour after Nori had left, Bofur found himself packing a suitcase and contemplating his next move. His cat pestered him for attention, and he knew he would have to do something about her.

Bofur had been gloomy after he had had to put down his terrier two years earlier. His brother had shown up on his door with a kitten in his meaty hands only a few weeks later. Bombur insisted that Bofur take her, having found the little fur ball in an alleyway. Bofur—reluctantly—took her in and named her Mittens. He regularly claimed that he was not a cat person, and joked that he would give the cat away to anyone who would take her. Now faced with the decision he was sadder than he thought he would be.

He picked up the cat under his arm and the bag of cat food he kept under the cupboard and crossed the hall to his neighbour’s door. Mary was shy, late twenties and worked in an accounting firm in the city. Bofur knew that it was unfair to take advantage of the awkward romantic feelings she seemed to have for him, but he was confident that the cardigan-loving accountant would take care of Mittens as long as he was away.  
He knocked on the door and was almost surprised to see Mary in her pyjamas and a robe, her brown hair dishevelled.

“Bofur,” she said with surprise.

“Mary, I have an emergency. I have to go out of country for a while, I was wondering if you could take care of Mittens,” he rushed.

“Um…yes…okay…” she said as he handed her the bag of kibbles.

“Thank you, it means so much to me,” he said.

He scratched the cat’s ears briefly and forced himself to hand her over to Mary.

“Thanks,” he said, giving the woman a brief kiss on the cheek to seal the deal.

“You’re welcome,” she said, still stunned.

He retreated back to his apartment, already lamenting dumping his cat. He took a deep breath and grabbed his suitcase, ensured everything was turned off, and locked the door. He caught the cab he had ordered before he had begun packing and headed to the airport. Upon arrival he stopped quickly at a payphone and called Thorin & Co.’s number, knowing the office would be empty. At the tone he left a message.

“Thorin. It’s Bofur.”

He had a horrible feeling of being under surveillance, and covered his mouth with his hand as he spoke.

“I have to take off for a bit, business…you know the thing we were talking about…the gorgeous blonde in the morgue…it’s not a fake…don’t try to use it…get rid of it.”

He hung up to phone and headed to the ticket counter. First flight…anywhere.

oOo

Thorin had spent the day anxiously going through papers on his desk and through scenarios in his mind. He had not bothered to check the company line for messages. Glóin mumbled something about leaving for lunch early before he exited the office. Dwalin stepped into the office almost immediately after and closed the door.

“We can’t complete any of the orders,” said Dwalin.

“Hm?”

Thorin looked up. He had arranged his pens in order on the desk while he thought. His hand shook slightly as he pulled the exact middle one from the line.

“Thorin, we’re out of supplies, we’ll have to get Glóin to refund the orders.”

“Ah, okay.”

Dwalin stared at him, but Thorin continued to make notes on paper and stare at his computer.

“Are you looking up suppliers?” Dwalin asked cautiously.

“Cases,” said Thorin.

“Not immediately helpful…”

“No, I have an idea.”

“An idea?” Dwalin drawled.

“Yeah, we have to beat Tauriel and Legolas at their own game.”

“I don’t think it’s the same game…Thorin, I really don’t think that she was involved…”

Thorin’s leg was bouncing as he stared at the screen, a sure sign of Durinson anxiety.

“Go home and sleep,” suggested Dwalin.

Thorin shook his head and Dwalin gave up and left, closing the door behind him. Glóin came back from lunch, bringing Thorin a mug of coffee from the pot in the back. Thorin took a sip and frowned at Garfield.

Thorin continued his frenzied search online for any case he could use as a precedent against Mirkwood. He did not even notice when Glóin left for the night and twilight fell. Dwalin had stayed late to do a final inventory and clean up the forge. He stopped into the office to rouse Thorin from his trance.

“Hey.”

Thorin grumbled a response.

“Save what you’re doing. Dís wants me to bring you to her place,” said Dwalin.

“What did you say to her?” asked Thorin, defensively.

“I didn’t say anything. She says you won’t answer her texts.”

“Oh,” he said in surprise.

Thorin looked at his phone. There were two missed calls from Dís and at least twenty text messages.

“I’m driving,” said Dwalin, taking Thorin’s keys off of the filing cabinet.

Thorin acquiesced, following Dwalin to the rental.

“You should really go pick up your car tomorrow,” Dwalin suggested.

Thorin nodded, and leaned back in the seat, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and then running his fingers through his hair.

“Can we stop for coffee?”

“Thorin, I think you need sleep. When was the last time you had a good night’s?”

“I dunno, 1983?”

Dwalin shook his head irritably.

“You’re obsessed, you know that? What brought this on? Fíli’s car?”

Fíli’s car was starting to fade into Thorin’s past. He had hardly thought about it at all since the USB was decrypted.

“I’m fine,” said Thorin defensively as they pulled in at Dís’s.

“Well I think Dís is angry, so prepare yourself.”

Thorin got out of the car and grimaced.

“What?” asked Dwalin.

“Nothing. Heartburn.”

They entered Dís’s house through the front door and found her in the kitchen.

“Thorin!” raged Dís as the two men entered the kitchen.

Thorin held up his arm to shield himself from his sister.

“Dís! What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into you!?” she yelled.

Dwalin stepped between them. Thorin stepped over to the counter, away from Dís.

“You bring my sons into your shit!?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have Kíli look into files that are clearly blackmail!”

“Kíli…” he said under his breath.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Kíli’s an adult,” said Thorin, opening the cupboards.

“What the hell are you looking for?” yelled Dís.

Dwalin was still standing between them, though Dís had stopped launching herself at her brother.

“Antacid,” he grumbled.

Thorin rubbed his chest and leaned back against the counter.

“Why would it be in there?” yelled Dís.

Thorin did not respond, but took a sharp breath and pressed his hand against his chest.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dís grumbled.

“Not heartburn…”

He slid down against the cupboards pressing his hand to his chest. He found himself gasping against the pain behind his sternum.

“Dís call an ambulance,” said Dwalin gravely, closing the distance to Thorin and grasping his shoulders.

“What?” she said numbly.

“Call an ambulance now! I think he’s having a heart attack!”


	8. Rose Cottage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything falls on Dwalin's shoulders.

11 September 2013

Things occurred in a strange blur for Dwalin where time simultaneously whipped away and stood still. Dís had called the ambulance, repeating what Dwalin told her to say to the operator.

“Dís, get the front light and open the door so they know where to find us!” he said.

Dís left the room, still on the phone. He voice was shriller than Dwalin had ever heard it. It was with paralysing fear and incredible calm that put his arm around Thorin’s shoulders. Thorin clenched the fabric of Dwalin’s shirt with an urgent look in his eyes.

“Dwalin…there’s an envelope on my coffee table,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Right…”

“Don’t let Dís see it ever…if anything happens…”

“Nothing’s happening, they’ll be here soon.”

“She can’t know,” Thorin pressed.

“Alright.”

“Promise me.”

“Thorin, I promise. Just worry about breathing. Try to relax until they get here,” Dwalin said, surprised by his calm.

“They’re through here,” Dís directed the paramedics.

They motioned Dwalin step back and he joined Dís, who still clutched her cell phone. He stood behind her, arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist. She gripped the arm that crossed her collarbone.

“Dís,” he said gently in her ear, “go with him in the ambulance, I’ll take his car and meet you there.”

She nodded and followed the paramedics as they wheeled Thorin to the ambulance on a stretcher. Without a glance back Dís followed her brother into the ambulance. Dwalin took a moment to turn off the lights and lock the door before getting into the car.

oOo

“Dwalin!”

Dís leaned into his arms, and he feared she might fall over and lead her to a seat. He had only just found Dís after parking Thorin’s car. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying and she looked lost. He sat beside her, pulling her close and stroking her hair.

“It was a heart attack. They’re going to put stents in to open the arteries,” she said numbly.

Dwalin nodded, still holding her.

“We have to call the boys,” she said.

“We can call them after.”

“After what? After he’s…”

“Dís, calm down. After they’re done with the procedure. No sense getting them worried.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! Maybe they should be worried!” she said, pulling away from him.

“Thorin won’t want them to be worried,” said Dwalin reasonably, taking Dís’s hands between his.

She swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Dwalin…I think it was my fault.”

“No.”

“I was yelling at him…”

“Dís…”

“Why would I do that?”

Dwalin shook his head with the ghost of a smile.

“As long as I’ve known you you’ve yelled at him, sometimes over really stupid things, too. I don’t think this was stupid and I don’t think you gave him a heart attack. He hasn’t been himself since Fíli’s car.”

Dís sobbed dryly and Dwalin took that as a signal to stop before he really stepped in it. He kept his arm around her while they waited. Eventually a doctor that Dwalin recognised approached them.

Óin shook his cousin’s hand in greeting before sitting in the chairs across from Dís and Dwalin. He scratched at his well kept white-grey beard and flipped open his clipboard.

“I didn’t realise you weren’t at Iron Hills General anymore,” said Dwalin.

“Recent transfer,” he said gruffly.

“How’s Thorin?” Dís interrupted.

“The stents are in place and we’re monitoring his condition. He needs to remain overnight for observation.”

“Can we see him?” asked Dís.

“Of course.”

Óin explained where they would find Thorin. They thanked him and proceeded through the halls to Thorin’s room. He was sitting up in bed, eyes half closed, with circular, white electrodes stuck across his chest. He opened his eyes as he saw them enter.

“Thorin, I’m so sorry,” Dís said, grabbing his hand.

“No don’t,” Thorin protested softly.

“I did this,” she said.

“I think years of smoking and stress did this,” he said as sarcastically as he could manage.

Dwalin pulled a chair to the side of the bed for Dís, and stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders. Thorin half-smiled at them.

“What?” said Dís.

“You two…” he said.

“We should call the boys,” said Dís, shrugging off Dwalin’s grip and changing the subject.

“Oh let them sleep,” said Thorin.

“It’s eleven. They won’t be asleep.”

“Really? Feels like three in the morning.”

“I’m going to go,” said Dwalin.

“Can you call the boys?” Dís requested.

“Yeah,” he grumbled.

Dwalin gave Thorin a brief nod and left the room, heading out of the hospital. He lit a cigarette as he tried to retrace his steps through the parking lot to find the rental car. Something about how Dís had brushed him off in front of Thorin had left him feeling uncharitable. Finding the non-descript vehicle, he leaned against it and searched his phone for Fíli’s number. He was doing this for the boys, he told himself.

After a few rings Fíli answered sleepily.

“Hello?”

“It’s Dwalin.”

“Oh…Dwalin. What’s going on?” he asked, clearly confused to be speaking with Dwalin this late at night.

“Your uncle had a heart attack.”

“Is…is he alright? Where’s Mum?”

“He’s fine. They’re fine, she’s with him.”

“Should I come home?”

“No, nothing like that. Your mother just wanted you to know what had happened.”

“Right…um…okay,” Fíli said, still processing this new information.

“Go back to bed,” said Dwalin lightly.

“Okay, yeah. Thanks, Dwalin. Goodnight.”

Now the difficult call. Dwalin hovered over Kíli’s number for a moment. He really should have had Fíli do this. He sighed and pressed the call button.

“Hello!” Kíli’s voice was almost drowned out by the sound of people around him.

“Kíli, it’s Dwalin.”

“Dwalin? Why’re you calling me?”

“Are you drunk?” asked Dwalin.

“Getting there.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

Kíli made a dismissive noise.

“Kíli, I need to speak with you alone.”

“Okay, alright.”

It sounded as though Kíli had stepped out into the night. Dwalin thought he could still hear distant voices but also a hint of a breeze.

“Okay, what’s up?”

“Your uncle had a heart attack.”

“What?! Oh my god. Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he will be. Your mother wanted me to call.”

“Right, yeah.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah…I’m just gonna go home…”

“You don’t need to come back,” said Dwalin.

“Rivendell home, Dwalin. Remember you helped move me in?”

“Of course. I have a question for you, Kíli.”

“Kay?”

“Your mother said something about a USB…”

“Um…I don’t think I am supposed to talk about that…” he said sheepishly.

“Well, maybe that indicates you should.”

“Dwalin…”

“Thorin had a heart attack, seems stress-related. I want to see if I can find out what’s been bothering him.”

“He took it with him. It was just files from Mirkwood and Smaug Inc.,” said Kíli.

“Shit…” grumbled Dwalin.

“What?”

“Kíli, just be careful. Your brother has already had a close call.”

“Dwalin, I’m fine. Just let me know if anything happens with Thorin.”

“Goodnight.”

“Yeah, bye,” Kíli snapped.

Dwalin looked at the cut call as it blinked twice and disappeared. He thanked whatever deity might be listening that Dís had turned down his proposal all of those years ago. Perhaps proposal was a bit of a strong word. Really it had been more like a suggestion, something to legitimise their sneaking around, something to make Dwalin feel like he was involved in a two-way relationship.

They had been sitting Dwalin’s balcony in the early evening, laughing and talking, sipping their beers, and looking at the lights of the city beyond. With the new start at Thorin & Co. he had been feeling much braver and happier than he had in recent memory. Dís’s cheeks were flushed and he could not resist brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I want to be with you, Dís,” he said.

“You are with me,” she laughed.

“I want something more…permanent,” he said.

“Permanent…”

“Let’s get this out…Move in together or…”

She sighed.

“I can’t, Dwalin. The boys are still so young…I mean they lost their father only a couple of years ago…”

She stared at him seriously.

“Dwalin…”

“You think I wouldn’t…I’m not looking to take his place…but…”

He took a deep breath and clasped bother of her hands between his.

“Dís, I love you. I would do anything for you and the boys.”

“It’s not that. I mean, I know you would, and they like you too. It’s just, I don’t think you…we’re ready for…I mean, you’re still dealing with…war stuff…”

His had heart plummeted at her words. He had accepted all of her; when she cried about having lost her family, being lost and alone herself; her fear of sleeping without the television on; her limited schedule…yet she could not accept a part of him that he was working so hard to put behind him.

She had left after that conversation, but they continued seeing each other. Dwalin had maintained the relationship, hoping that as Fíli and Kíli grew older Dís might begin to feel differently. It had been a habit, his devotion to her and her ambivalence towards him. Presently, smoking against Thorin’s rental car he had the horrible feeling that all these years he had been looking for something that had never been there.

12 September 2013

Dwalin arrived at work the next morning and broke the grim news of Thorin’s heart attack to Ori, Glóin, and Bombur. Dwalin had elected Bombur to bring the rental car back to the company, as Thorin would not be driving for a while, and he was at a loss with what to have Bombur do for the day.

Ori continued his search for suppliers and Glóin calculated the value of their inventory. Dwalin made an attempt to sort out the papers on Thorin’s desk. As he went through them he became both more curious and confused and simply occupied himself with piling them as neatly as he could. He was surprised to find the light on the phone blinking once he had cleared the papers away from it.

“Ori. Can you check the messages?”

Ori nodded and Dwalin got up and grabbed his jacket.

“Where are you going?” asked Glóin.

“Hospital. Call my cell if anything happens,” he said.

The day was unusually warm, but Dwalin swore he could feel the bite of oncoming winter in the breeze on the ride to the hospital. He decided to take a brief detour to Thorin’s house and pick up his mail as he had the keys anyway.

Thorin’s mail was mostly an assortment of flyers; it looked as though he had not opened the box in a week or two. He shifted out a couple of bills and a bank statement, tossed the flyers, and proceeded upstairs. He had intended to drop the mail on the kitchen table, but he suddenly what Thorin had told him while awaiting the ambulance..

He closed the door behind him, dropped the mail beside an empty mug on the kitchen table and proceeded to the living room. The envelope that Thorin had mentioned rested beside a full ashtray on the coffee table. Ignoring the part of his mind that told him looking into Thorin’s affairs was wrong, Dwalin opened the envelope and pulled out the contents.

As soon as his mind processed the face on the photo he dropped the files in awful surprise. His insides clenched horribly as he was hit with recognition and he sat back into the sofa, his fist against his mouth. He leaned forward and collected the papers off of the floor, transfixed by that terrible photo of Frerin. He took in the disfigured neck and skimmed the coroner’s report. Thorin had never shared with him any details of Frerin’s death. Dwalin felt terrible for that burden which his friend had been carrying these long years.

Dwalin shifted through the photos and reports with a growing sense of revulsion. Putting them back into the envelope and hiding it in the bookcase, he felt a chill he could not seem to shake. He could not help but wonder how long Thorin himself had carried this terrible knowledge, unable to unburden himself of it for fear of dragging those he cared about down with him.

He gathered himself and got back on his bike. The sun he had enjoyed on the ride over could not seem to warm him, his mind heavy with this new discovery. He shivered involuntarily under his leather jacket, the black-and-white image of Frerin on the concrete etched in his mind. He parked around the corner from the hospital so he would not have to pay for parking.

He entered Thorin’s room. He was sitting up, looking somewhat more alert than he had the night before. Dwalin sat in the chair that Dís had left.

“They tell me I can leave this evening,” Thorin said.

“Good.”

“How did Fíli and Kíli take the news?”

“I think I woke Fíli up. They both took it the way you’d expect them to.”

Thorin nodded.

“Is Dís coming to get you tonight?” Dwalin asked.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to come? Keep her from smothering you in guilt?”

Thorin smiled and looked at his friend.

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Thorin said.

Dwalin looked at him sadly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What? Say anything about what?” asked Thorin.

“About the envelope?”

Thorin subconsciously rubbed his hand across his chest.

“You didn’t need to know.”

“Maybe not,” conceded Dwalin.

“I take it you read the reports?”

Dwalin jerked his head in assent.

“It does seem rather a large coincidence. I am contacted with these files, Mirkwood starts trying to buy us out, steals our supplier files, we get a USB full of incriminating evidence, and someone sends us a message by blowing up Fíli’s car.”

“The envelope has nothing to do with Mirkwood,” said Dwalin.

“No?”

“No. Thorin, you need to stop worrying about this. Maybe Mirkwood did some shitty stuff to us, but you’re driving yourself mad looking for a connection to Erebor.”  
Thorin looked surprised to hear this from Dwalin, but regained a grimly neutral expression. They sat in tense silence for a moment. Dwalin looked at his watch and decided it would be up to him to change the subject.

“I should go check on the lads. I had Bombur return the rental car.”

“Thank you,” Thorin said stiffly.

Dwalin gripped his friend’s forearm briefly.

“I’ll be back tonight.”

oOo

Kíli awoke late. He had missed his only Thursday class, Consumer and Popular Culture. He looked at his phone. Well he had not missed it completely, he consoled himself, there was still a half-hour left. He rolled onto his back and stared at the undressed windows, annoyed with the cheery sunshine streaming in.

He scrolled through a few text messages as he forced himself to really wake up. One from his mother, one from Fíli, and one from that girl at the party.

Mum: Just wanted to let you know your uncle is okay and we will be bringing him home tonight. Love you. Be good.

Fíli: Did Dwalin call you last night?

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s Leah. Got your number from Jack. You left your laptop at our place.

He made an attempt to check his email on the phone but it would not load. He tossed it on the bed; half hoping the phone would break so he could get one that would actually connect to his wifi. Kíli cursed to himself and got up to look for the Ethernet cable he had not yet bothered to unpack. Still muttering to himself, he emptied a couple of boxes. Finding the blue cable, he plugged his desktop computer into the modem.

He had received several emails regarding a group project. None of them seemed very happy with his lack of response, and he worked on arranging a meeting with them. Then he decided to get himself together and walk back over to that Leah girl’s house and get his laptop.

After his shower he wondered idly if people in the buildings across the street could see him through his curtain-free windows. Probably would not be good for having company over. He searched through the boxes for clothes, managing to find some black skinny jeans, a grey shirt, and a green flannel. He pulled on his shoes and left without a second thought to the blue cable, still hanging awkwardly between the modem and desktop.

oOo

“Dwalin!” said Ori, surprised and relieved.

“What?” grumbled Dwalin, dropping his keys on the filing cabinet in the office.

He looked around the room. Bombur sat miserably in a corner, Glóin had carried on his accounting—Dwalin suspected he would calmly carry on if the shop was struck by lightning and burned down around him—and Ori crouched on his chair like a small, hyper bird.

“I tried calling you!” said Ori.

“Okay. Calm down,” said Dwalin pulling out his phone.

“Why didn’t you answer!?”

“Phone’s dead,” he shrugged, opening a drawer where he thought Thorin’s phone charger might be.

“Dwalin!” shouted Ori.

“Stop yelling!” Dwalin shouted back.

“You need to check the voicemail. There was a super sketchy one…from Bofur,” Ori told him.

Dwalin picked up the phone and handed it to Ori.

“I don’t know the passcodes. Set it up for me.”

As Ori found he message, Dwalin plugged his cell phone into the charger. It appeared that Ori had tried to call him seven times since he left. He felt a little guilty as he took the office phone back from Ori to listen to Bofur’s muffled voice.

“Thorin, it’s Bofur…I have to take off for a bit, business…you know the thing we were talking about…the gorgeous blonde in the morgue…it’s not a fake…don’t try to use it…get rid of it.”

“Does anyone know what this means?” asked Dwalin.

The three looked at him, shaking their head.

“Well I assume you all listened to it. Did anyone try contacting Bofur?”

“We couldn’t get hold of him anywhere,” said Ori, glancing back and Bombur.

Bombur’s face looked ashen beneath his red beard as he slumped in his seat, the arms straining out against his massive bulk. Dwalin sighed and looked at the clock. The shop would only be open for a couple more hours as it was.

“Glóin, can you drive Bombur home? You can take the van.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed, apparently thrilled to be leaving.

Glóin prodded Bombur’s arm, encouraging him to get up and follow him outside. Bombur rubbed his eyes looking desolate. Dwalin leaned back in Thorin’s chair and listened to the message over and over. Finally he slammed down the phone in frustration. He sat back, his arms across his chest.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” said Ori miserably.

“I don’t either,” said Dwalin.

“There aren’t any suppliers that we can get in contact with. None who meet the budget requirements anyway,” said Ori, handing Dwalin a sheet he had printed off.

Dwalin reviewed it, scrubbing at the thick stubble on his face.

“It’s okay, Ori. You’ve done your best,” said Dwalin.

“I don’t have anything left to do. We don’t have any orders so I don’t have any designs to work on.”

“You can go if you want. We’ll give you a call if we need you for anything,” said Dwalin.

“Thanks, Dwalin.”

Dwalin grunted his acknowledgement. Ori pulled on a pair of knit fingerless gloves and a denim jacket before walking out into the late afternoon to catch his bus. He held the door for Glóin as the accountant returned. Glóin deposited the van keys on the filing cabinet beside Dwalin’s keys.

“They cleaned it up real good at the shop, but I still found a piece of Fíli’s car under the seat,” said Glóin drily.

“What?” Dwalin jolted from his thoughts.

“The van. There's glass under the seat.”

“Ah.”

Glóin shrugged and started filing away the papers he had left on the desk earlier. He took his mug back to the sink to wash it out, and emptied the stale coffee from the pot. Dwalin heard, rather than saw Glóin going through his closing routine. The phone rang, jolting Dwalin from his thoughts.

“Thorin & Co., Dwalin speaking.”

“Good afternoon. This is Michael Edwin of the Ered Luin Regional Police Department.”

“Good afternoon,” said Dwalin absently.

“We’re currently conducting an investigation of a suspicious death. We found no form of identification on the victim, except for a company business card.”

“So what is it you need?”

“We would like you to come down to the morgue. We are looking to identify this body.”

“Alright, I'll be there shortly,” said Dwalin.

He stood and grabbed his keys, and poked his head to the back.

“Glóin, lock up when you leave. I’ve got to go…check something.”

“No problem,” grumbled Glóin to Dwalin’s back.

Dwalin quickly sent Dís a text message to let her know that he would not be there to pick up Thorin, but would meet her after at Thorin’s place. Dwalin’s mind reeled as he made his way to the morgue. Bofur had disappeared with a cryptic message, and a body with only Thorin’s business card to identify it had turned up. Dwalin focused on the road as best he could. It could be anyone who had come into the store or who had been given a business card, he thought to himself. It was no use imagining the worst.

He parked in front of the city morgue and entered. He spoke briefly to the receptionist and was met by a technician and a police officer. They took the elevator to a lower level and Dwalin became aware that his heart was pounding and his breathing seemed intolerably loud. He clenched his hands in front, trying to calm himself.  
He followed the technician to the covered cadaver. He steeled himself in horrible anticipation of this moment, hoping beyond hope that it would not be Bofur. The technician looked at him expectantly.

“Are you ready?”

Dwalin took a deep breath and nodded.

The technician pulled back the sheet. Dwalin took in the Celtic knot tattooed on the bicep and the bruised, rent open neck before he could process the cold face before him. He stepped back, the sick anticipation of this moment fading to a duller aversion that settled somewhere in his stomach. The technician lowered the sheet.

“Do you know this man?” asked the officer.

Dwalin’s own voice sounded harsh and foreign in his ears when he answered.

“I know him. He’s an employee. Nori.”


	9. Intuition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Civility is abandoned at the funeral. Dwalin decides to be nice. Fili realises something terrible.

12 September 2013   
    
“Dwalin, where were you?” Dís asked harshly.

Dwalin cast her a dark look as he entered Thorin’s apartment and stalked through the living room. Thorin was settled on the couch in sweatpants and a faded T-shirt, looking no worse than he had earlier that day.  Dwalin threw his jacket over the back of an armchair and sat down, about to light a cigarette.

“Please don’t,” said Thorin icily, “I will rip it from your cold dead hand.”

“Yeah, speaking of that…”

Dwalin put away the cigarette and faced Thorin, fingers steepled.

“Of what?  I hardly know what you’re talking about anymore,” said Thorin irately.

Dwalin sighed and ran a hand over his stubbly face.  Dís also looked irritated as she stepped into the living room and sat down beside her brother.  He stared at them for a moment and wondered how he would say it.

“I…couldn’t make it earlier because I had to go down to the morgue,” he said slowly, not fully believing what had transpired.

“The morgue?  Why?” asked Dís.

“Because they found…”

He took a deep breath to steady himself.  Thorin and Dís were just staring at him, and he was glad that he did not have to face Ori with these tidings.

“Who was it?” asked Thorin.

“Nori.  It was…it looked like they were sending us a message.”

“Your marketing guy?” asked Dís.

“Website design,” Thorin corrected her absently.

“Is this important right now?” Dwalin said as Dís looked about to ask more.

“No.  Go on,” she said shortly.

“A message…what kind of message?” asked Thorin.

Dwalin looked at Dís briefly then back to Thorin.

“I don’t think it was a…it wasn’t…clean.”

“Dwalin, you know that Nori ran in rough crowds.”

“You’re right,” Dwalin acquiesced begrudgingly.

He did not want to explain his reasoning in front of Dís.  Thorin had made a tremendous effort to keep the nature of Frerin’s death a secret from his sister.  He stared at her for a moment and then looked away.  The three sat in silence for a moment.

“Well,” said Dís at length, “I still have work tomorrow.”

She got up and kissed her brother on the cheek.  Her guilt that she had caused the heart attack—unreasonable though it was—was still apparent. She dropped her hand on Dwalin’s shoulder as she passed and he touched it briefly with his own.

“Are you staying?” she asked him.

Dwalin nodded.

“I’ll…tell Fíli and Kíli about Nori before they hear it through the rumour mill,” said Dís as she collected her jacket and keys.

“Goodnight,” Thorin called to her as the door closed.

“Thorin—” Dwalin began.

“You don’t need to stay,” he said.

“Never mind that. Nori…it looked like he was garrotted,” said Dwalin.

“What?”

“I think that they intended it to look like Frerin’s death.”

Thorin pressed his fingers to his breastbone.

“Are you alright?”

“They told me there might be some pain,” Thorin dismissed him.

“What do you think? About Nori?”

“You read the report. It can’t be the same guy…Grud is dead.”

“But there was a connection to some sort of crime ring?”

Thorin sighed.

“Go home, I’m going to bed,” he told Dwalin.

“I’m staying.”

“You don’t have to stay. Dís has been overreacting all afternoon,” said Thorin.

“I’m not…I can’t be…I’m staying.”

Thorin was troubled by his friend’s misery.  Dwalin sat in the armchair staring at the ground, his hands on the back of his head. Thorin had not seen him looking this grim since before they had opened the shop.  He slid down the couch, closing the distance between himself and Dwalin.

“It’s been a difficult few days,” Thorin conceded.

“Yeah.”

“What do you think we should do about the shop?”

Dwalin shook his head with a dry laugh.  He looked up at Thorin and pulled a grim smile.

“We have to get out of this Mirkwood shit,” he said.

“I agree.  You need to get a lawyer,” said Thorin.

“I have a lawyer.”

“Not Balin.”

Dwalin shrugged.

“Dwalin, that pretty-boy Greenleaf is serious.”

“That seems like the least of our problems…”

Thorin leaned back into the sofa, dragging his hands over his face.

“I feel terrible about this…this whole thing,” he said.

Dwalin nodded solemnly. Nori’s death was weighing on him as well.  The message was for Thorin—that much was clear—but who was sending it?  The two sat well into the night.  
   
14 September 2013   
    
The shop had not been closed for a weekend since its earliest days.  Dwalin had made the executive decision that the shop would remain closed for the weekend of Nori’s funeral.  That had not prevented him from his daily ritual of going to work. He had decided to ensure that the paper work was organised, and by ten in the morning he had emptied out the filing cabinet and was surrounded by piles of papers and file-folders.

He was surprised to hear the bell on the door.

“We’re closed,” he called.

“Yeah, I saw,” replied a female voice.

He stood up, annoyed with the disruption, and stalked out to the front.  Seeing the figure at the counter he froze in his tracks.  Tauriel leaned forward on her hands, against the counter, her long braid almost touching it.

“Tauriel.”

“Hi,” she said.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came for my last paycheque,” she said.

“Right,” he said retreating into the office.

He came back with the envelope and handed it to her.

“Dwalin,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“The thing with Legolas…I’m trying to get him to drop the charges…” she said.

“You’re—what? Why?”

“I know that Thorin fired me because of Legolas…but it was a bar-fight, I don’t think that he should try to leverage that against you for business.”

She turned to leave.

“Thank you, Tauriel,” said Dwalin gruffly.

She nodded and left.

Dwalin returned to his papers and was interrupted again by the door opening and two voices.

“We’re closed!”

“It’s us, Dwalin,” called Kíli.

Fíli and Kíli appeared in the doorway.

“What’re you two doing here?” he grumbled.

“Do you need us to do something?” asked Fíli.

“No.  I have a lot of paper work to get through,” he said

“We could help,” said Kíli.

He sat down on the floor across from Dwalin, accidently knocking over a stack of folders.

“Oops…”

Dwalin fixed him with a dark look as Kíli tried to right the pile.  Fíli knelt and picked up the stray papers, filing them conscientiously.

“Why did you come here?” Dwalin asked.

“Habit mostly,” said Kíli.

“Mostly?”

The brothers shared a glance.

“What?” Dwalin asked.

“And Mum wants you to join us at Thorin’s tonight for dinner,” Kíli rattled off.

“Can’t,” he said.

He focussed on the files in front of him, hoping that would end the matter.  The two were still staring at him when he looked up.

“That’s all.  Go iron your trousers for tomorrow or something,” Dwalin suggested, hostility creeping into his tone.

They shared a look and left. Dwalin set down the folder he was working on.  So Dís had noticed that he had been avoiding her, and she sent Fíli and Kíli to do her dirty work. He looked at his phone. Nothing.  
Dwalin let the rest of the day pass by in a comforting haze of filing.  
   
15 September 2013   
    
The funeral was a small affair. Thorin did not miss the irony of the vicar speaking of Nori’s life; the account seemed to have rather a lot of holes.  There was no mention of the year Nori had spent in prison, for what Thorin had always assumed were drug-related charges; or the brief prosperity Nori had celebrated with the hacking and blackmail job he had performed for a company he refused to name; or his recent downward spiral, no doubt due to another failed scheme…little wonder he had been eager to take on the hacking job Thorin offered.

The Nori the vicar spoke of was a stranger to Thorin: a caring brother and uncle, a lover of music and art. Perhaps there was truth in these statements, Thorin thought with a look over to Nori’s brothers and the sniffling white-haired twins.  Ori seemed dazed.  He sat with a slender hand shielding his face, shaking slightly.

Guilt settled in Thorin’s stomach like a ball of iron.  Nori could have undoubtedly met such a fate on his own, but Bofur had warned him of the USB.  Thorin scanned the few attendees.  Bombur sat with his head bowed, his cousin patting him on the arm consolingly. Bofur was not with him, nor anywhere to be seen.  He would ask Dwalin about it later.

Thorin glanced at Kíli, seated beside him.  He slumped unhappily in the pew, his eyebrows low over his eyes.  His nephew noticed him staring.

“What?” he barely whispered.

Thorin shook his head.

“Are they having something after?” Kíli whispered.

“No. Why?”

“Just want to see Ori.”

Thorin nodded.

The service wrapped up and people got up to leave.  Kíli pushed past his uncle to Ori and wrapped him in a hug.  Something caught Thorin’s eye towards the back of the chapel: a long auburn braid.  Thorin pushed through the mourners with Dwalin and Fíli on his heels.

“Tauriel,” he growled.

She flipped her braid over her shoulder and faced him.

“Thorin,” she said coolly.

“What are you doing here?”

“Paying my respects,” the young woman said defensively.

“Thorin,” said Dwalin, a hand on his arm.

“She thinks that she—”

“Thorin.  It’s a funeral,” said Dwalin.

“I should go,” said Tauriel, with a glance at Fíli.

“Just came to make sure we got the message?” asked Thorin hostilely.

“Stop,” said Dwalin, stepping between Thorin and Tauriel.

Fíli looked incredulously from Dwalin and his uncle to Tauriel.  Kíli had joined them, confusion on his face.  Dwalin put a hand on Thorin’s shoulder with a dark glance in his direction.

“Dwalin, that bitch—”

“Thorin,” said Kíli in disgust.

“Kíli, you don’t know what’s going on,” said Thorin.

“I don’t think I care…” he said, appalled by his uncle's behaviour.

Nori’s eldest brother cut through the crowd and stepped in front of Thorin.  He had a dangerous calm on his face.

“You’re Thorin?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m Dori.  It seems like this is something that you could take elsewhere.”

Thorin nodded.  He aimed a harsh glare in Tauriel’s direction as he stalked out of the chapel.  Dwalin situated himself between Thorin and Tauriel as they left.  Thorin assumed that his nephews would follow, but paid them no mind when they did not.  If they were so concerned about Tauriel they could walk home.

“Look,” Dwalin said in a low voice.

Thorin ignored him, striding to his car.  He fully intended to drive away without Dwalin, in spite of the doctor’s orders not to drive for the next three weeks.  He opened the door and Dwalin slammed a heavy hand on it, the handle jerking out of Thorin’s grasp.

“Get out of my way,” said Thorin.

“Thorin, you need to calm down.”

“I don’t need you treating me with kid gloves.”

“Then just listen to me for a minute!”

Thorin met Dwalin with a cold look.

“Tauriel is trying to talk Greenleaf out of pressing charges against me.”

“What does she want out of it?” asked Thorin cynically.

“I don’t know.  She didn’t ask for anything.”

“You think she’s doing this out of the goodness of her heart?”

“Probably not any more! Can’t you at least be civil? We’re at a funeral!”

“Let’s go.”

“What about Fíli and Kíli?” asked Dwalin.

Thorin shrugged, dropping the keys into Dwalin’s hand.  Dwalin sighed and got into the driver’s seat.  
   
oOo   
   
Fíli watched Thorin stalk from the chapel with a growing sense of unease.  This was not the uncle he knew.  He looked at his brother who had approached Tauriel with his apologies.  The small crowd had started to disperse a little, offering their sympathies to Nori’s small family.  Fíli looked back over his shoulder to see Ori standing where Kíli had left him, unsure what to do with himself.

Fíli glanced back at his brother—who was still with Tauriel—and decided that Ori was also deserving of apology. He strode down the aisle to where to the sleight man stood, wringing his hands.

“I’m sorry for…for whatever that was,” Fíli told him.

“It’s alright.  Thorin’s been very bothered at work,” said Ori numbly.

“What’s been going on there?” Fíli asked.

“Nothing really. We can’t even get suppliers…and Bofur took off…just a lot of weird stuff…” he trailed off.

Ori was tearing at the back of his hand with his nails.  Fíli was transfixed by Ori’s pain.  He looked young and bird-like, though Fíli knew that Ori was several years older than him.  He grabbed Ori’s wrist to halt his destruction.

“Did you come here with your brother?” asked Fíli.

Ori nodded and sighed.

“He has to observe the niceties. Dori’s like that. Decorum and stuff…I should be like that…”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“You don’t have to stay, Fíli. I’ll be okay.”

“It looks like almost everyone’s gone anyway,” said Fíli, walking Ori back to Dori and the twins.

“Thanks,” said Ori.

Fíli nodded and turned to Dori, who was bidding a last distant cousin farewell.

“I’d like to apologise for my uncle,” said Fíli.

“Thank you,” Dori said coldly.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he rushed uncomfortably.

Dori simply nodded and Fíli left his presence as quickly as he could, exiting the chapel.  He went around the side of the building to the parking lot, but Thorin’s car was not among the vehicles that remained. Frowning he walked back to the front to see if he could find anyone he knew.

He only recognised Glóin and his family as they drove away.  Annoyed, he walked out to the street to see Kíli walking Tauriel to a nearby bus stop. Kíli hugged her and she smiled at him as they parted.  Kíli caught sight of his brother and walked back with a half-smile.

“What?”

“We don’t have a ride,” Fíli said humourlessly.

“Eh?”

“Thorin and Dwalin left without us.”

Kíli looked at his phone and Fíli furrowed his brow at his brother.

“What?” Kíli asked after a moment.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shit-eating grin.

“Kíli, I have to catch the bus to Dunland in less than two hours.  Aren’t you taking the bus back to school?”

“Yeah, tomorrow morning.”

“Kíli!”

“Okay, well call Mum,” Kíli shrugged.

“She’s at that charity thing for her boss, remember?  That’s why I have to take the bus home…”

Fíli clenched his fists and turned, trudging back through the parking lot.  He felt like he was talking in circles to his oblivious brother.

“Fíli, calm down,” Kíli said lightly.

“You got Thorin mad! That’s why he left us here!”

“Well, he was being a dickhead…”

Fíli growled something indistinctly, his frustration no longer contained.  He leaned against a lamppost thinking of everything that still needed to be done.  Not only did he have to pick up his stuff from his mother’s house, but he also still had several readings to get through for the next day.

“C’mon…” chided Kíli.

Kíli smiled annoyingly.

“What are you smiling about?”

Kíli turned his phone to his brother to show him the message, irritating smile still on his face.

“Fíli, Dwalin’s going to come for us.”

“You knew that the whole time?”

“Yup.”

“You have a really inappropriate sense of humour.”

“You just don’t like when the joke’s on you,” smiled Kíli.

“It’s not a good joke.”

“You’re just a control freak.”

Fíli did not say another word to Kíli while they waited.  Fíli checked the time on his phone nervously while Kíli texted his school friends. By the time Dwalin returned in Thorin’s car, the parking lot had cleared, even Dori and Ori had been gone for a while.

“Well, get in,” Dwalin grumbled.

Fíli jumped into the front seat and Kíli sat in the back without argument.

“You took Thorin home and left us?” Fíli confronted Dwalin.

“Came back for you,” he grumbled.

“I’m going to miss my bus!”

“No you’re not,” he growled.

They made it back to Dís’s with surprising speed, and Fíli ran into the house and gathered his stuff without bothering to change out of his suit.  He was back in the car by the time Kíli had barely dragged himself out of the back seat.  Dwalin got on the highway and sped for a very short distance until they became stuck in crawling traffic.  Fíli fidgeted, checking the status of the highway on his phone.  He looked over at Dwalin as he read the report.

“Dwalin…the accident is way up ahead…trailer on fire…they have it reduced to one lane…”

“That’s fine.  I’ll get off at the next exit,” he said through gritted teeth.

Fíli tapped his middle finger against the cup holder impatiently.  He kept glancing at his phone, watching the minutes tick away as they crawled nowhere.  They had not even reached the next exit when Fíli let out a sigh of frustration.

“We’ve missed it,” he said in defeat.

Dwalin grumbled something as they reached the exit.  He pulled onto the main road, around the clover and onto the other side of the highway. They sped past the exit that would bring them back to Dís’s house.

“I think you missed the exit…” said Fíli cautiously.

“Yeah.  Have to go a few more to Dunland.”

“You don’t have to do that…”

“I don’t want to hear it from your mother,” he said, lighting a cigarette with one hand on the wheel.

“I won’t tell her you were smoking in the car while going over the speed limit then,” said Fíli sarcastically.

“Don’t push your luck.”

Fíli kept his mouth shut until they got to Dunland.  Dwalin was far more irate than Fíli had ever remembered seeing him.  He had turned on the radio to his preferred classic rock station and blared it somewhat louder than Fíli felt his eardrums could handle.  It was not until they reached the university town that Dwalin turned down the music so Fíli could direct him to the proper street.

“I’m sorry I was rude earlier,” said Fíli.

Dwalin grunted.

“Thanks for going out of your way,” Fíli added.

“Well…Dís wouldn’t appreciate me leaving you on the side of the road.”

Fíli nodded, stepping out and grabbing his duffel bag.  He had barely shut the car door before Dwalin took off.  He stared as the car disappeared around corner and out of sight. Something about the way Dwalin had said his mother’s name…

Fíli dropped his bags on the lawn, struck with realisation.  No wonder Dwalin had gone out of his way today.  Memories of what had seemed like innocent activities were suddenly laced with this new knowledge.  He sat down in the grass, unsure of how to handle this information. One of his roommates came outside, about to go for a jog.

“Fíli, nice suit! Why are you sitting on the lawn?” asked Gregory.

Fíli looked up at the jogger with a blank expression.

“I think Dwalin’s sleeping with my mother…”  
   
oOo   
   
By the time Dwalin had returned Thorin’s car, his earlier frustrations had burned themselves out into a more melancholic torpor.  He ignored the text message from Dís (We need to talk) and climbed the stairs to Thorin’s place to drop off the car keys. He knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.  Thorin had also calmed down it seemed.  He flipped aimlessly through channels as Dwalin sat down in the armchair and cast a glance at his friend on the sofa.

“What took you so long?” Thorin asked.

“Fíli missed his bus.”

Thorin shook his head and laughed.

“What?”

“You drove him to Dunland?” Thorin asked incredulously.

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Tell him to take a later bus.”

“The kid was half-way to a meltdown,” Dwalin shrugged.

Thorin nodded in understanding.

“Bofur wasn’t at the funeral, was he?” Thorin asked, remembering the earlier detail.

“Bofur left town, I thought I told you.”

“He did?  How do you know?”

“He left a message a few nights ago…said he was leaving, something about a blonde woman in a morgue. I don’t remember now, seemed like bad news though.  Bombur was upset.”

“Hm.”

“I’m going to head home,” said Dwalin, dropping Thorin’s keys on the coffee table.

Thorin raised a hand absently as Dwalin left the apartment.  The door closed heavily and Thorin was left with Dwalin’s words echoing in his head.

“Blonde in the morgue…”

Thorin pulled the USB from his shirt pocket and stared at it with growing revulsion.


	10. The New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin returns to work. Dwalin says what's on his mind.

25 September 2013

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” said Dís.

“I’m bored. I need to do something,” Thorin replied with a sigh.

The two were in Dís’s car, on the way to the shop. Thorin had been under advisement not to drive since his heart attack two weeks earlier. His physician had also cautioned against his going to work, but Thorin had talked his sister into driving him in anyway.

Dwalin had informed him that they would be meeting with a supplier who had not been scared off by Legolas Greenleaf, and Thorin was not going to miss the business returning to normal. Dís pulled into the lot in front of the shop and eyed Dwalin’s motorcycle around the side. Thorin followed her gaze and looked back at his sister.

“What’s going on with you two?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said sharply.

“Dís…”

“Thorin, none of this is your business! What has Dwalin said? Never mind, it’s not your business,” she ranted hostilely.

Thorin put up his hands in surrender and stepped out of the car.

“You’ll stop here after work?” he addressed her through the passenger side window.

“Yes,” she said tersely.

“Thank you,” he said as amicably as he could manage.

Dís sped off and Thorin shook his head. Entering the shop he was glad to find that his regular staff had all returned to the office. Ori sat with his chin on his hand, flipping through his designs on his laptop. Bombur was replying to clients on back-order on Thorin’s computer, while Dwalin sat in his heavy wooden chair beside him, filling out items on duplicate paper and occasionally pointing out items to Bombur. Glóin was the first to notice the company’s namesake entering the office.

“Thorin, you’re back,” he said with a grin, standing and shaking his boss’s hand.

Thorin smiled slightly as the others welcomed him back. Ori looked a little thin and overtired, but managed a genuine half-smile in Thorin’s direction. Dwalin stood and he and Thorin stepped out of the office into the still cold forge.

“You look pleased,” said Thorin.

“Greenleaf dropped the charges yesterday,” Dwalin said.

“That is good news,” said Thorin.

“And Bombur and I are heading out to Hardbottle to meet with the supplier after lunch,”   
Dwalin reported.

“I told you we’d pull through,” said Thorin.

“Don’t need to be smug.”

“Thorin,” said Ori, stepping into the forge.

Thorin turned to face the young man and Ori looked hesitant.

“Two…men here to see you…old men,” he said, whispering the last part.

“Let’s hope their hearing is gone,” said Dwalin, shooting Ori an incredulous look.

Thorin walked past Ori to the desk. He could see why Ori had been hesitant. Professor Gandalf Grey stood dressed in jeans and his horrible tweed jacket. He had brought with him an associate, who seemed almost lucid. He was sporting a beard and ponytail like Gandalf, a brown cable-knit sweater over a mustard yellow collared shirt, a messenger bag, and some old trousers that appeared to have dog hair on them.

“Ah, Thorin,” said Gandalf, “this is my associate from the criminology department, Professor Radagast Brown.”

Thorin shook the professor’s hand over the counter, glancing back at the curious glances of his own associates.

“What can I help you with?” Thorin asked, though he knew the answer.

“Perhaps we could speak in private,” said Gandalf.

Thorin nodded and gestured at Glóin and Bombur and the two left the office. Thorin invited the professors in, offering them seats across from his desk. He took his office chair behind the desk, a little smug to be turning the tables on Gandalf.

“Well?” asked Thorin.

“As per our discussion last week, we looked into any suspicious cases that involved Mirkwood’s staff,” said Gandalf.

“And?”

Radagast pulled a file folder from his messenger bag and threw it onto the desk with a surprising thump. Thorin’s eyebrows rose as he looked at the overflowing files, held together with numerous clips and a thick rubber band around the middle.

“I appreciate you using your connections for this,” said Thorin.

“We expect you to honour our agreed price. It was at great professional risk that we managed to secure these documents,” said Gandalf pointedly.

“I thought you had tenure,” said Thorin.

Gandalf fixed Thorin with a stern look and Thorin pulled a folded letter-sized envelope from his jacket and handed it to the professor. The two stood and exited the office with brief farewells. The door had barely closed before Dwalin opened it and entered the office, closing the door forcefully behind him.

“What the hell is that all about?” Dwalin hissed.

“Just some insurance in dealing with Mirkwood,” said Thorin, locking the folder in the bottom drawer of his desk.

“Here I thought you were happy to come back to work, but you’re just using it as a meeting place for the likes of…”

“They’re professors at ELU.”

“Professors…well that’s…what?”

“Just some information I was looking for…academically of course…”

“Oh right, academically,” grumbled Dwalin.

Dwalin left the room and Ori peeked around the door nervously.

“It’s alright Ori, you can come back,” said Thorin.

The artist nodded and returned to his desk, working away erratically at designs for the rest of the morning. Thorin lamented that there was no comfort he could offer Ori as he worked through the pain of losing his brother.

oOo

Dwalin and Bombur met with the supplier and were able to strike a deal. Dwalin regretted that the prices of individual pieces would have to increase, but he would let Glóin calculate that. Maybe they could fire the grumpy accountant and pass the savings onto the customers, Dwalin thought to himself. Thorin would never go for it, and Dwalin would have to live with his cousin’s ire at family events.

“Bombur,” he said, as he drove the van back to the shop.

“Hm?”

“Have you had any word from your brother?” Dwalin asked.

“No. I went to his apartment once…it looked the same as ever. Except his cat was gone…” Bombur said sadly.

“You filed the missing persons report?”

“They didn’t accept it because he left a message saying he would be gone…he’s not technically missing…just skipped town.”

“Want me to drop you at the subway? We’re close anyway, save you some time,” Dwalin suggested.

Bombur nodded.

Dwalin headed back to the shop after dropping off Bombur. As he expected the shop was dark and locked. Dís had already stopped by for Thorin. The sky was grey and Dwalin suspected that rain would follow shortly. He stared at his bike despondently. He had wrecked his car several years earlier and had replaced it with what Dís joked was evidence of his mid-life crisis.

Dís…he had been avoiding her as much as he could these last two weeks. Their few interactions had been tense, both avoiding the fissures in their relationship that were becoming exposed. Dwalin locked the van and kick started his bike. It carried him inexorably to Dís’s bungalow through the beginnings of the drizzle. What could he say to her? Something. He had to say something

He took the few steps to the front door, hesitating a moment under the outdated grey and green panelled awning which covered the stoop. He could see the orange glow from the arc of rippled glass panels above the knocker. The warmth of the light inside served only to emphasise the cold grey of the evening outside. Dwalin took a deep breath of resignation, and knocked on the door ignoring the iron knocker. Dís opened the door, her eyebrows raised at Dwalin’s damp clothes.

“Why did you knock? You have a key.”

“I think it’s time we spoke,” he said.

“Oh, so you finally got my messages?” she said sarcastically.

“Dís…”

“Fine. Come in out of the rain,” she said.

She brought him a towel, which he used to dry off as he leaned against the kitchen counter. She sat down at the kitchen table, her tea and television forgotten in the living room.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” she asked finally.

“I don’t know.”

“Alright, talk’s over,” said Dís flatly, standing.

“Because I’m unhappy!” Dwalin blurted.

Dís, shocked by his candour, sat back down.

“You…you’re unhappy. With us?” she said.

Dwalin sat down across from her, towel forgotten on the counter. She looked at him across the table, eyebrows low over her eyes.

“No…yes…”

“Is it the…fifty thing?” she asked.

“What? No. Dís, it’s a number and I’ve got you beat anyway,” he dismissed the age crisis she seemed to be having.

“Then I don’t really understand what’s going on.”

“We’ve been…at this for a long time…and I asked you years ago…Dís why can’t we make this something more than it is?”

“What more do you want, Dwalin?” she said, frustrated.

Dwalin’s expression darkened.

“What do you mean? For years we’ve been sneaking around because you said you didn’t want the boys to know, and I accepted that! I didn’t want them to forget their father so that I could step in, or that they could hate me for taking their mother, or whatever the hell you think that the problem was! But Dís, they’re not boys anymore and I have gone out of my way time and time again for you and them. Don’t you owe me that?”

“What is it you think that I owe you?” she asked venomously.

“That’s not what I mean…”

“Then say what you mean!” she shouted, slamming her palm on the tabletop.

“I mean what I said fifteen years ago! I’m tired of being around for you to fuck when you feel like it! I'm tired of you getting off on a dirty secret!”

There was a long pause. Dís stared at Dwalin, offended.

“You think that’s all this is?” she asked harshly.

Dwalin’s voice was tight as he answered.

“I think that you have your life…that’s full of your family and your work and your friends and that I’m just a side. I waited for you because I thought this would go somewhere…”

“What? That we would—I dunno—move in together? Get married?”

“You’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said, getting up.

“Dwalin…”

“Dís, I was there for you…I was there for Fíli and Kíli…why should I think that my life would be any less empty…” he trailed off bitterly.

“Dwalin, don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t go,” she said, following him to the door.

“I can’t do this anymore, we're not in our thirties. I don’t want to wake up alone for the rest of my life.”

He stepped out into the rain and got on his bike, Dís still on his heels.

“Dwalin, don’t go,” she said, holding the handles of the bike.

“Do you love me?”

She hesitated.

“Shit, after fifteen years you still don’t know,” he laughed bitterly.

He roared away into the downpour and left her standing in the driveway, her hand covering her mouth.

26 September 2013

Early morning was not Bombur’s favourite time of the day. This morning he was up earlier than usual, having slept restlessly and given up sometime around four. He clambered around the kitchen making much more noise than usual, so he should not have been surprised when Bifur came into the kitchen, dark eyebrows low over his face.

What the hell are you doing? Bifur signed angrily.

“Sorry…I was making breakfast. Eggs Benedict on raisin brioche, want some?”

You should really just enrol in culinary school. Why are you messing around with this metalworking? You don’t even like it.

“You didn’t answer my question, but I’ll make you some anyway,” Bombur said evasively.

You came to live with me to stop following your brother around. You’ve been here for five years and you still haven’t done it.

Bifur was right, and Bombur knew it. Bifur did not need to rent out the second room in his condo, his work as an editor at the downtown office of a publisher afforded him enough to live comfortably. He had conceded to his cousin’s pleas, and allowed him to rent the room so that he could be closer to the downtown core, restaurants, and the culinary school. Bombur served breakfast and sat down across from his cousin.

You’re still worried about Bofur.

“Well…after what happened to poor Nori…”

I’m sure he left for business.

“Just sort of a big coincidence isn’t it?”

Bifur shrugged.

“I’m going to stop over at his place before work. Make sure he hasn’t come back or anything.”

Suit yourself.

After breakfast, Bombur took the subway to the terminal station and cut through the park to Bofur’s building. He took the elevator to the eighth floor and nearly broke into a run as he saw Bofur’s door ajar. He pushed it open and stepped inside. The place was a mess of papers and tipped furniture. He stepped into the office, towards Bofur’s ransacked desk, a growing worry in his heart.

“Bofur?”

Bombur nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a female voice. He stepped out of the office towards the entrance to see a narrow-faced woman peeking in hopefully.

“Oh, I’m s-sorry,” she stammered, stepping back as she saw Bombur.

“No, it’s alright. I’m Bombur, Bofur’s brother,” he said.

“Mary,” she said, barely gripping his hand in was passed as a handshake.

“You know Bofur?”

“I live across the hall.”

“Do you know what happened here?” he asked.

“I heard something crash last night and I looked through the peephole…but someone had put a piece of electrical tape over it and I was too scared to look out.”

“Did you call the police?” asked Bombur in dismay.

“I didn’t think to…” she said sheepishly.

“Maybe we should…” he suggested.

He pulled out his phone and cursed.

“What?” asked Mary.

“Battery’s dead. You know, I had this stupid little flip-phone and the battery used to last for days! This thing…I forget to charge it one night…”

“You can use my phone,” she suggested, gesturing for him to follow her into her unit.

“You don’t have a cell phone?” he asked.

“Well…I…no I just really hate them.”

He looked around her small apartment. The television was the old tube-style and he could see no computer. In fact, the apartment looked as though a much older woman inhabited it. He looked at her incredulously as he dialled the police on her powder-blue phone. He explained the situation and awaited instructions.

“They want me to wait for them,” he said hanging up the phone.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind being late for work. I would really have something to tell the girls! Early morning police investigation!”

Mary’s cheeks were flushed and she rubbed her hands together giddily. To Bombur, she really did not look like she was even thirty. He shifted uncomfortably spotted a black and white ball sleeping on the couch.

“Is that Bofur’s cat?” he asked.

“He gave her to me when he said he was going out of town…he’s been gone for a bit now, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” said Bombur.

It would be a long wait for the police.

oOo

The sun streamed into the windows of the condo that Tauriel shared with Legolas. He had left for work that morning as always: clean shaved, impeccably dressed, and with an uninvolved kiss goodbye. Tauriel had made up her mind earlier that week, and had finally gathered the courage to deal with the situation.

She had thoroughly regretted telling Legolas anything about her co-workers at Thorin & Co., and had felt used ever since she found out that Legolas had goaded Dwalin into a fight. As much as her boyfriend claimed it was only business and that she of all people should understand, she could not bring herself to accept the feeling of being a pawn in his game.

These thoughts weighed on her mind as she packed her belongings into a duffel bag and contacted her closest friend, looking for a place to stay. She and Mara had attended university together, and had remained in contact in the few years since they had graduated. Mara was enrolled in graduate studies at Rivendell University and told Tauriel that she could room with her for a while.

Tauriel sighed as she zipped the duffel and placed it beside her backpack at the door. Legolas had been a means to an end as much as she was to him. She had had nowhere to live, no job, and very little money when she arrived in the city. Jumping into a relationship with Legolas had allowed her to work on her art without worries about finances, and him to have a partner to charm businessmen at formal events and an inside agent at Thorin & Co. The knowledge that they had mutually used each other was not comforting.

She pulled a steno pad from a drawer in his desk and opened it to the first blank page, scribbling a quick goodbye, and dropping it in the middle of the desktop with her set of keys. She gathered her duffel and backpack and locked the door behind her as she left. She took a deep breath as she headed down the elevator, though the lobby, and stepped into the bright autumn air.

Time to make her own way in the world.

oOo

“Bombur, it’s almost noon. You were supposed to be here at nine,” said Thorin.

Bombur stepped into the office and faced Thorin’s annoyed glare.

“I left you a message at eight-thirty,” Bombur protested.

Thorin looked over at the light flashing on the desk phone.

“Why don’t you just tell me where you were,” Thorin conceded.

“Bofur’s apartment was broken into. I was told to stick around to be interviewed for the investigation.”

“Bofur’s was broken into? Did they take anything?”

“It doesn’t look like it…”

Thorin nodded and rubbed his hand along his jaw.

“Go give Dwalin a hand in the forge,” Thorin said.

Bombur nodded and left the office. Minutes later Dwalin was in the office, huffing with agitation.

“Did you speak to him?” he asked.

“Yes. He called. I missed the message. He was involved in a police investigation, don’t make him feel any worse,” Thorin said pointedly.

Dwalin grumbled and headed for the door.

“What’s the matter with you today?” asked Thorin.

“There’s a lot to do.”

“That’s never bothered you before.”

Dwalin looked at the floor, his hand still on the doorknob. He took a deep breath and shook his head.

“It’s nothing.”

Dwalin shut the door behind him, just in time for Ori and Glóin to open it again with their return from lunch. Glóin eyed the case files on Thorin’s desk suspiciously and Thorin fixed him with an icy glare. Glóin quickly looked away and sat down at his desk while Thorin continued to pour through the files.

oOo

Tauriel sat on the bench at the bus stop where she would catch the city bus to the train station. She was regretting packing her duffel bag so full. It had been cumbersome dragging it onto the first bus, but she had left nothing at Legolas’s condo that she could not live without. Packing what was needed was a skill she had learned early in life, being shuffled between foster homes. She never allowed herself to think of that soft stuffed bunny that she had left behind at the Wilson’s.

Presently she was enjoying the autumn day, appreciating the colours of the leaves and the bright sunlight in an effort to block out any reservations she had about leaving Legolas. She clenched and unclenched her fists subconsciously, checking her phone for the time more often than necessary, yet never remembering it once she returned the phone to her pocket.

She was brought back from her thoughts of leaves and blue skies when a black town car stopped in front of the bus stop. She looked at it with curiosity when a man in a business suit stepped out. He smiled at her and she jolted in surprise.

“Are you Tauriel?” he asked.

“Who’s asking?”

“My name is Anthony Bolg. It looks like you need a ride.”

“I have a transfer,” she said with a cocky smile, holding up the slip of paper.

“We know where you’re going,” he replied stepping towards her.

“Is that so?”

“Come,” he said, holding out his hand with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Where?”

“We have a job opportunity for someone of your particular skill set.”

Nothing to lose, she stood, ignoring his hand and striding towards the open door. His smile widened and grabbed her duffel and followed her. The door closed sharply and the car continued on its way.


	11. Confident Liars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis calls Thorin. Kili thinks it's a date. Dwalin eats a hotdog.

27 September 2013

“Dís…yes, fine. I’ll be over tomorrow night,” Thorin said into his cell phone.

He had taken his car to work for the first time since his heart attack that day, admittedly against doctor’s orders. He had even stopped at the grocery store, which was when Dís had called him…and she had spoken almost without pause since he had answered the phone. He fumbled with his grocery bags, trying to sort out his keys and unlock the door. He dropped his keys and sighed exasperatedly.

“Okay…Dís…okay, yeah, I have to go…no really, I’m hanging up now,” he said, pressing the red button to end the call.

He grumbled a few curses to himself as he grabbed his keys from the floor and put them in the lock. He was surprised to find no resistance and no sound of a bolt retracting. Unlocked. He cautiously pushed open the door to find a horrendous mess, but no perpetrator. He carefully stepped into the kitchen and set the groceries on the counter, looking at his overturned table in dismay.

“Bofur…this happened at Bofur’s place…” he said to himself.

He picked his way through the living room to the toppled bookshelf, and lifted the slim unit back against the wall. He sifted through the pile of books, finding nothing. He scanned the mess of DVDs; his eyes roving from the television stand back to the coffee table. A small wooden box, which Dís had left behind years ago rested upon it. He scrambled to open it, only to find it empty.

“Shit!”

He ran his hand over his beard and sat back on the sofa with growing frustration. He could not call the police and he would not call that private detective that Gandalf must have been paid to advertise for. He skimmed through his phone and made the only call he thought he could.

“Dwalin?”

“Hello to you, too,” he grumbled.

“We have a problem.”

“Christ, don’t tell me that jackass from Hardbottle is dropping us as a client!”

“What? No. Dwalin, my place has been ransacked. Things are missing.”

“You were robbed?”

“Not exactly…it’s the files on Frerin…and…”

“And?”

Thorin did not answer.

“The USB?” pressed Dwalin.

“I don’t think I spoke to you about that.”

“I have a good idea from Dís and Kíli,” he said.

“I don’t know what to do about this,” said Thorin.

He ran his hand through his hair, staring at the mess around him. A twinge in his chest sent him into a moment for panic, but it eased almost instantly.

“I’ll…come help you clean up…” Dwalin offered resignedly.

“But what do we do about this?”

“Thorin…”

“I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say that. Maybe we should call the police.”

“They’re blackmail files and they came from a pretty dubious source…”

“Then maybe we should just leave it be,” sighed Dwalin.

“You think we should give up on this?”

“We’ve had nothing but trouble all month.”

Thorin sighed.

“I’ll be over shortly,” Dwalin said, ending the call.

Thorin dropped his phone onto the coffee table and sat with his chin against his clenched hands.

oOo

“Fíli.”

Fíli spun in his desk chair to find Gregory standing in his doorway.

“You didn’t knock,” Fíli said flatly.

“We’ll I didn’t catch you calling up the secret service or anything, so maybe we forgive and forget and I’ll knock next time,” said Gregory with a shrug.

“What do you need?” Fíli asked.

“We were having a house meeting.”

“Oh…I must have forgotten…”

“Well, it was a four-fifth’s house meeting. It was about you.”

“Hm.”

“I was elected spokesperson.”

“You can’t throw me out,” Fíli said defensively.

“Why would you think we want to?”

“You did just have a meeting about me…”

“We’re…concerned.”

“About what?”

“You.”

“Why?”

Gregory entered the room and Fíli stood up, a little uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry. I get that I stepped into your sanctuary. I just want to see what’s going on with you,” said Gregory, his hands raised.

“I’m fine. I’m just busy with school.”

“Right. Okay, but you’ve sort of dropped off the face of the planet and also the chores roster.”

“I’ve been having a bit of a hectic year. I’m sorry about the chores thing, I’ll catch up on them tomorrow…”

“What happened the weekend you were gone?” Gregory pressed.

“Don’t value people’s privacy much, do you?”

“I found you sitting on the lawn in a suit, going on about some bloke sleeping with your mother.”

Fíli did not respond.

“You’re upset about your mother’s relationship?”

“Don’t call it that,” said Fíli, shaking his head dismissively.

“Is that what it is?”

“Well I hadn’t really thought about it until now,” he lied.

Gregory just looked at him. Fíli wanted to shove him back out into the hall and close his door against the intrusive questions of his housemates. Collecting himself, Fíli thought he would put an end to the matter.

“I had just come back from a funeral. One of my co-workers, I’ve known him since I was a kid,” he said evenly.

“I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

Fíli shrugged.

“We weren’t close or anything, just a bit sudden. Sort of…hit everyone with the shock of it.”

Gregory nodded, and started to back out of the room. Fíli sat down and turned back to his desk.

“Fíli,” Gregory said.

Fíli turned back to face the housemate who stood in the doorway.

“If you need anything…”

Fíli nodded and turned back to his notes. He stared at the book, reading the passage several times before giving up. He adjusted the neck on his lamp and stood up to open the window. When he heard the music drifting in from the house party across the way, he closed it. He fidgeted in his seat for a moment before picking up his phone, unsure whether or not there was a person on his contact list he wished to call.

Dwalin Fundinson.

The name popped out at Fíli with a wash of ambivalence. The man had always been around and Fíli had naively thought that it was just because he was Thorin’s best—perhaps only—friend. Could he call Thorin? Could he ask him about this? More than likely his uncle would be evasive, perhaps suggesting that he ask his mother. Fíli exhaled a bitter laugh. He could not ask his mother, it would be mortifying.

He recalled the day that everyone had helped Kíli move into his apartment. How had he not noticed Dwalin flirting with his mother? He had always known that she and Dwalin were friends…he sat back in his seat annoyed with himself. Had Kíli noticed? His brother could be a little obtuse when it came to noticing the little things…but a memory of the night he had caught Dwalin sneaking out of the house when Fíli was eight, stood out sharply in his mind…surely Kíli had to have had similar run ins.

Fíli called his brother. One ring and Fíli started wondering about the propriety of his actions. The phone rang once more and Fíli terminated the call before Kíli could pick up. If Kíli did not know, maybe Fíli was not the person to tell him. Surely his brother would not appreciate hearing the accusations…or maybe he would; Kíli seemed to like Dwalin far more Fíli ever had. Setting the phone down on the desk he decided that leaving his brother in ignorant bliss was the kindest thing to do.

He was left to wonder how he could go so long without noticing this.

oOo

1 missed call.

Kíli had not even heard the phone, although it must have just gone off. He decided his brother must have pocket dialled him; if it had been an urgent matter Fíli would have left a voice mail, a slew of text messages, and probably several more missed calls. He replaced the phone in his jacket pocket and continued through the darkened night to the small strip of bars in Rivendell’s downtown, his long strides eating up the sidewalk. He smiled to himself; “downtown” was a bit of a misnomer for the two or three intersections of shops and bars.

He came to a minimalist pub, showing a hockey game on the flat screen TV over the bar. Glancing around the darkened space, his eyes came to rest on the auburn-haired woman in the corner booth. He slid into the seat across from her a grin splitting his face, though he tried to contain it.

“I was surprised to get your text,” he said.

“Thanks for coming, Kíli,” she said.

“Oh, don’t mention it. Friday night, nothing to do…”

“I’m sure you have better things to do than sit around here…”

“Nah. You’re a friend of mine, I came to cheer you up,” he said.

“Thanks…I really…it’s just hard you know? You’re with someone, living with them and it all just ends…”

She looked at him sadly.

“It’s fine, really,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks,” she said again.

“Don’t mention it. Hey, have you tried the deep-fried pickles at this place?”

She shook her head with small smile.

“Why did you come to Rivendell?” he asked.

“I did my undergrad here. I have some friends who still live in the area,” she said as the pitcher she had ordered arrived on the table.

“Right because you’ve done you’re undergrad…you’ve graduated,” said Kíli.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re graduating this year?” she ventured.

“Um…next.”

“Right. So you’re the artsy type too then? Rivendell and their art students…”

“Cinema studies…the cultural side, not the production side…I was sort of…I didn’t get into the right stream so I changed into a program where my credits would carry over.”

“I see.”

“And you?”

“Art history and visual arts. One of those double majors that doesn’t really get you anywhere…they tell you to do what you love, but you don’t really end up anywhere for it…” she lamented.

“I’m doing a terrible job at cheering you up,” he said.

“No. It’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t saying ‘I told you so’ about Legolas.”

“Right he’s…he’s a lot older right…”

“A little,” she shrugged.

“Because you graduated in…2011?” he ventured.

“2009…Kíli, we’re friends. If you want to know how old I am just ask.”

“Right, caught. Are you twenty-five?”

“How dare you ask a lady that question…”

“You said…”

“I’m kidding,” she smiled, “twenty-six.”

“Right, how is that?” he ventured.

“Worse than twenty-five, better than twenty-three…” she shrugged.

Kíli nodded. Normally the women he chatted up had “freshman” all but tattooed on their faces. Tauriel was a little smarter and seemed to hold her alcohol a little better than that demographic. Her aloofness at his normally charming advances made her infinitely more desirable.

“What?” she asked.

“Oh nothing…I had a birthday this summer…well I have them every summer…twenty,   
I’m twenty now…”

“Right,” she said.

“Is this going badly?” he asked with a grimace.

“No, you’re funny,” she said.

“Oh good,” he smiled.

oOo

Kíli walked Tauriel to the building where she was staying, chatting away. She glanced at her phone and looked over her shoulder cautiously.

You making friends?

“This is my stop,” she said as they reached the low-rise.

“So…” he said, sliding his hands into hers.

“I had a really nice time, Kíli. I’m just a little…you know…about Legolas and stuff,” she said, giving his hands a little squeeze.

“Right, well…”

They hugged a little awkwardly, Kíli’s dejection evident. He raised his hand in a brief wave as he headed out into the night.

“Goodnight,” he called, disappearing beyond the pool of light cast by the streetlamp.

“Thank you!” she called after him.

She stood in the doorway of her building until Kíli was out of sight. Her saccharine demeanour melted into something more insidious as she strode around to the side street where the black town car was parked. She pounded her fist against the back window and it rolled down to reveal the middle-aged man inside.

“Easy little lady,” Bolg smiled.

“Evening, Tony. You trailing me?”

“I’m your supervisor aren’t I?” he shrugged.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she said.

“You already agreed. We set you up in your own digs, we transferred your first pay into your account. Our little ‘art consultant’,” he sneered.

“Take it back, I don’t need it,” she said.

“Mr. Azog thought you might have second thoughts,” said Bolg, pulling a photo from an envelope and handing it to Tauriel.

It was a grubby little bungalow.

“I don’t know what this is,” Tauriel said flatly.

“No?”

Bolg handed her a second photo of her entering the side door of the building. She stared at it, her heart sinking.

“They never did figure out who was running that hothouse, the cops…” he said, lighting a cigar.

Tauriel’s lips pressed together briefly, but she maintained her composure.

“Good way to pay for school, right? I guess it’s not hard to push a little dope around here. I mean, any university town really, but Rivendell has quite the reputation…for the arts…” he carried on smugly.

“You don’t have anything,” she said.

“Case is still open, sweetheart. You know how much they found? Enough to put you away until your baby-making years are over. You understand where I’m going with this?”

She nodded grimly.

“No more second thoughts then,” he said, “you make friends with the kid, and you keep him close.”

Bolg closed the window with a fiendish smile and the car took off. Tauriel stood for a moment, then shoved the photos into her jacket and climbed the stairs to her darkened loft. She closed the door and sank back against it. She slid down to the ground, cradling her head in her hands.

28 September 2013

Thorin had left Dwalin to lock up the shop at the end of the day and had headed straight to his sister’s house. He entered the living room to find her curled in a blanket on the couch, still in her pyjamas, watching TV.

“Dís,” he ventured cautiously, “it’s almost seven.”

“Yeah…”

“So…we’re ordering in?”

“What?”

“You invited me for dinner,” he reminded her.

“I did.”

“You didn’t make anything…”

“I don’t feel like making anything,” she snapped.

“What happened with you and Dwalin?” he asked, sitting in the recliner.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on. Maybe you’ve fooled the boys this long…maybe…but I know you better than they do, and Dwalin has been miserable at work lately. Just tell me the truth,” he said.

“He’s miserable?” she asked, strangely hopeful.

“That’s not what I was getting at.”

“What did he tell you?” she asked.

“Nothing. I want you to tell me.”

She flipped through the channels and sighed.

“He…ended it with me.”

“He did?”

“Why is that so surprising?” asked Dís.

“I’m not surprised.”

“You’re not?!”

“I don’t know the right thing to say right now,” he surrendered.

She ran her fingers over the edge of her blanket in silence. Her expression slowly changed from anger to desolation.

“I just want him to come back,” she said quietly.

“Did you tell him?”

“I don’t know how.”

Thorin looked at her for a moment and shook his head.

“You phone him…”

“That’s not what I meant!” she snapped, rubbing at her eyes.

“Enlighten me,” he said drily.

“I can’t do it again,” she said.

Thorin raised his eyebrows, prompting her.

“I can’t lose someone I love again. I can’t keep being the one who gets left behind…”

“Dís, your husband—”

“It’s not just about him,” she cut in.

She stopped, perhaps collecting her thoughts. After a long pause Thorin shifted uncomfortably.

“Are you going to elaborate?” Thorin asked.

“After we lost…everything…I thought that starting my own family would fill the void…I mean it seemed the thing to do; all of my friends were married with babies and they were happy…but after the accident…just being left alone to take care of Fíli and Kíli, how I had to depend on you…I promised I would never let myself depend on anyone like that ever again.”

She covered her face and took a few shaky breaths. Thorin moved to the couch to sit next to her and squeezed her shoulder. She swiped her fingers under her eyes.

“Gramps made sure we had everything. Dad made sure we had more. When we lost them I had no idea how to live in the world. You and Frerin were so caught up in trying to save the company…I should have helped.”

“No, Dís…”

“At least I might have learned how to function in the world before I was in my thirties. I just clung to the next person who would take me…and I married him. I’m not even sure I loved him, rest his soul.”

Thorin was taken aback by his sister’s honesty. She had never articulated the pain she had been harbouring all of theses years. Instead she had completed her degree, worked hard, and saved so her children could have what they needed. Thorin felt a twinge of guilt for every time he had ever thought his sister selfish.

“You know the worst part?” she whispered.

Thorin shook his head.

“I love Dwalin. I really do. That terrible kind of love where you feel sick imagining life without them…and I couldn’t tell him that…that was what he wanted…”

“Dís, it’s not too late.”

“Can’t you just…”

“Why can’t you tell him what you told me?”

“What? ‘Hey Dwalin, I’m sorry I couldn’t let myself love you because everyone dies?’”  
she sniffed.

“Fine, don’t,” said Thorin getting up.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I don’t want to be anymore caught up in this than I already am. Phone Dwalin if you care about him. If not, just let him be…guy’s just getting out of a long-term relationship…”

Thorin left and closed the door forcefully behind him, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood for a moment on the front step. He had considered coming clean to Dís with his own secrets, but had quashed the idea when he saw her distress. Better she—the favourite child and only daughter—never know about their father’s darkest crimes.

30 September 2013

“You know, Thorin, I do ask students to make appointments,” Gandalf said with annoyance.

“I attended Dunland, I’m familiar with the procedure,” Thorin replied nonchalantly.

He took a seat across from the irate professor. Thorin reasoned that he was probably annoyed that Thorin always visited in the dinner hour. Gandalf sighed and placed his glasses on his desk. Leaning back in his seat he surveyed Thorin, his fingers locked, esting against his stomach.

“So what is it you want now?” Gandalf asked.

“I went though the Mirkwood files, good insurance, but I don’t think I found anything of particular interest. I’m wondering if you are able to find me any suspicious deaths…victims garrotted…”  
“Oh you won’t find that from Mirkwood. It does seem to be the calling card of an organised crime ring operating in several cities. It’s been speculated that they have an association with Smaug Inc.,” he said darkly.

“Yes…that I’ve heard.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know if I will be able to get you what you want,” said Gandalf evasively.

Thorin pulled a folded envelope from his jacket and dropped it on the professor’s desk. Gandalf leaned back and crossed his arms.

“It’s my…understanding that you have some debts with some unsavoury characters,” Thorin said.

“And where would you have heard that?” Gandalf dismissed him.

Thorin raised his eyebrows and Gandalf let out a small sigh of agitation.

“Professor, you need this,” Thorin insisted, though he was thoroughly enjoying watching Gandalf’s dilemma.

“I could contact my colleague at the University of Isengard…” Gandalf reasoned.

Thorin nodded.

“This will take time,” said Gandalf.

“I’m glad we have a deal,” said Thorin, standing and shaking the reluctant professor’s hand across the desk.

He turned to leave.

“Thorin.”

He looked back at the old man.

“In the future, do at least email me before you drop in. Despite my apparent age I do have some proficiency with computers,” he said derisively.

“Of course,” said Thorin courteously, though he had no intention of ever doing so.

He travelled the halls and the rotunda back to his car. He had left Dwalin to watch that he did not get a parking ticket, as his friend had insisted upon accompanying him to the university. He opened the car door and was assaulted by a savoury smell. Dwalin froze, his mouth full and a hotdog in his hand.

“Where did you get that?” Thorin asked with annoyance.  
Dwalin pointed across to a small field near the residence where a crowd of students appeared to be holding a fundraiser.

“You just walked over and got a hotdog.”

“Polish sausage, and they wanted a donation…”

“How could you eat that in my car? You’re getting sauerkraut all over the place,” said Thorin, settling into the driver’s seat and pulling the door closed with unnecessary force.

“It’s delicious,” Dwalin said through a mouthful, by means of explanation.

Thorin started the car and headed out of the lot.

“Did Glóin leave a message today?” Dwalin asked.

“Yeah, said he was still sick.”

“Sick…my ass,” grumbled Dwalin.

“He’s allowed to call in sick. He has an almost perfect attendance record,” Thorin said.

“It doesn’t strike you a little weird he calls in Friday and Monday?”

Thorin shrugged.

“Bet he took off to go visit Óin’s cottage before the weather gets bad,” Dwalin complained, crumpling the napkin from the hotdog.

“Has anyone told you that you really have it in for your cousin?”

“Maybe it’s because I grew up with the ginger bastard,” he grumbled.

Thorin did not respond.

“Did you get what you needed?” Dwalin asked at length.

“Yes, I think Professor Grey will be able to turn up something for us…if anything exists, anyway,” said Thorin, cautiously taking a left-turn.

“And…”

“I don’t know if Mirkwood is really our problem. I mean, aside from the weekly call to threaten a takeover. These things going on…they’re dirty. Mirkwood’s files show that they don’t play like that. They buy companies out from under people, maybe a few threats. Seems like Legolas Greenleaf has got his face broken more than once…”

“You think it’s...?” Dwalin trailed off, though he both knew and dreaded the answer.

“Smaug.”

“Of course, it’s always Smaug,” said Dwalin sarcastically.

“Think what you want. You’re the one who brought up the similarity in Frerin’s and Nori’s deaths,” Thorin said.

“Yeah I did, didn’t I…” said Dwalin regretfully, staring out of the window.


	12. Greed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel has second thoughts. Bombur has cheese. Thorin wishes he could have a doughnut.

4 October 2013

Tauriel stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. In the week since she had met with Bolg in the alleyway she had watched the decaying feeling in her depths manifest itself visibly. Her jeans seemed loose, her cheeks had lost their fullness, and her eyes were underlined with dark circles. Steeling herself, she began to apply the cover-up. Smooth the greyness out of the skin, brighten the cheeks, colour the pale lips.

She chose this, she reminded herself. The moment she had stepped into the town car she had chosen to survive and not fall into crippling poverty. She had prioritised her survival over whatever was left of her morality. It had seemed the only thing to do, like Legolas, the grow-op, her entire life. She had never been bothered hurting anyone before.

Then Kíli had texted her. She had fallen asleep on the blocky sectional after her encounter with Bolg on the night she and Kíli went to the bar. She had been surprised to fall asleep in the first place and was even more surprised to find daylight had crept into the studio apartment when she awoke. A peek at the phone revealed that it was not Bolg sending her threatening reminders, but that Kíli still offered his friendship with eagerness.

I know you’ve had a crap week. Hope you’re doing alright today 

She had stared at the message for a long time, a horrible wrench in her stomach at the honesty of it. She set the phone on the glass coffee table, knowing that she should respond but unable to find the words. She had fiercely stripped off the outfit from the night before and stepped into shower, the water running slightly too cold.

“You chose this,” she said to her reflection presently, “he would do the same in your shoes.”

Her phone buzzed on the sink counter. It was Kíli.

Meet you at the student centre in an hour?

She replied an affirmative. She had been texting him all week as per Bolg’s instructions, hoping that maybe she could avoid seeing Kíli in person, but Kíli had invited her to come out to a film screening at the university with a few of his friends who had worked on the project. She could not avoid him and have Bolg expose her past crimes—she had a feeling he had more on her than just the grow-op.

“Do your job. Look out for yourself,” she chanted to her reflection.

She went to the kitchen and had a double-shot of whiskey to calm her nerves. She gathered her messenger bag, pulled on her Buzz Rickson MA-1 and combat boots, and then headed out into the cool air. As she approached the campus, she could not help but marvel at how much and how little her life had changed since she had first set foot on these grounds.

oOo

Bombur was spending his Friday night in front of the television with a platter of cheeses and meats, which he had honestly intended to share with Bifur. His cousin arrived home after staying late at work, dropping his keys on the kitchen table. Bifur entered the living room and looked from the empty platter to Bombur with a look of disappointment.

You need to admit you have a problem, he signed.

“Well I left some of the craft beer for you,” Bombur tried to dismiss him.

It’s all you’ve been doing for the last month! Every night, sitting on the couch, drinking your beer, eating your cheese! You’re going to have a heart attack!

“I took the stairs today…and it wasn’t that much cheese,” Bombur mumbled.

You posted a picture to your food blog. I know exactly how much it was.

“Force of habit…”

What’s wrong?

“Other than Bofur being gone without a sign? Nori was murdered…what if Bofur…”

Don’t think like that. I emailed you something.

Bifur shoved Bombur’s laptop into his pudgy hands, and Bombur begrudgingly checked his email. It was a link to a culinary school’s website.

“Why do you keep trying to make me go to school?”

Its information about a scholarship!

Bombur shrugged, and rested the laptop on his stomach. Bifur rubbed at the long-healed scarring across his throat in irritation.

You have a lot of junk mail.

“Yeah, I order one thing from a furniture store and they plague me the rest of my life…”

Bombur clicked on junk mail folder. He was about to empty it when something caught his eye. He did not recognise the email address, but the subject was “Cheese Eater, Please Open”. He clicked on it, something suspiciously familiar about the marketing of it.

“Bifur! Bifur!” he cried, sitting up.

Bifur sat down beside his cousin, reading the screen.

“Bofur’s alright!”

He’s not coming back and he’s not checking this email. Doesn’t want to be found.

“At least he’s alright!”

How can you be sure it’s him?

“He called me “cheese eater”…”

Bifur surveyed the empty platter with disdain.

Truly. You eat it by the block.

5 October 2013

Tauriel sat straight up in alarm, awoken by the morning sun, which streamed in through Kíli’s uncovered windows. She had fallen asleep beside him, still in her clothes from the night before, but she was foggy about what had transpired after she had gone out with Kíli and his friends following the screening.

“Hey,” he said, rolling over.

He was no doubt stirred by her sudden jolt into consciousness. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and half-smiled at her.

“So I didn’t make it home then?” she asked.

“Nope. I really thought you could out drink that crowd, too.”

“Guess I’m a little out of practice,” she said.

“You did well…I’m pretty sure they do shots for a living though,” he said.

“Kíli…we didn’t…”

She halted her line of questioning, biting her bottom lip. Kíli raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

“What kind of person do you think I am? You were drunk, I took care of you,” he said, squinting at her indignantly.

“Sorry.”

“Besides, you wouldn’t even take your boots off. You got dirt on my blankets.”

“Given the state of this place I would say a little dirt is the least of your problems…Do you really bring girls up here?” she asked.

“I haven’t really tried yet,” he shrugged.

“So…I guess I should go home,” she said, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

“You can stay if you want or we can grab breakfast and…then I’ll walk you home.”

Tauriel gathered up her messenger bag and phone from the parquet floor. The tone in Kíli’s voice struck her as being so young, but completely kind. His offer of friendship seemed to stand regardless of whether or not she would sleep with him. It had been rare for her to find people like this. No one else was naïve enough to fall into her traps…she had difficulty ignoring the stab of guilt in an indiscernible region of her chest.

“Yeah. Alright, let’s do that,” she said.

He grinned at her and got up to find some socks. She watched as he rifled through the still packed bins and baskets, not hearing what he was talking about. Don’t get attached, she told herself; you don’t know what Bolg wants.

oOo

“I think I hate our monthly meetings now,” said Thorin, as he and Dwalin set out the doughnuts and coffee in the office.

“Why now?”

“I’m not supposed to eat this stuff,” he grumbled.

“We could get a fruit platter,” joked Dwalin.

“That would go over well with Glóin,” Thorin scoffed.

Dwalin suppressed a smile at the thought of his cousin delicately eating slices of cantaloupe with a plastic fork. His uncharitable daydream was interrupted by Ori’s arrival. The young man he pulled off his gloves and scarf, running his fingers through his mousey hair and hanging his jacket on the coat rack.

“Did you get chocolate mint?” Ori asked hopefully, pulling at the tape on the doughnut box.

“I don’t think they make those anymore,” said Thorin.

“Maple’s alright too,” Ori conceded with some disappointment.

“We got you hot chocolate though,” Dwalin comforted him with a mocking note.

Ori took the paper cup from Dwalin with what passed for a glare. Thorin hid his smile by taking a sip of his decaf. Bombur arrived, his step more jaunty than usual as he accepted his coffee and a Boston cream before taking his seat beside Ori. Bombur chatted with Ori as he opened the individual creamers into his coffee. Finally Glóin dragged himself into the office, grumbling all the while.

“Glóin, you have some work to catch up on anyway,” Dwalin pointed out.

“I do,” agreed Glóin, sipping his coffee.

“I’m pleased to say that it looks like we’re back on track,” said Thorin, interrupting the chatter.

“So Mirkwood isn’t trying to take us over?” asked Bombur.

“They haven’t contacted us in a couple of weeks and our supplier seems like he wants to keep his business out of their control,” said Thorin.

“What about the rent thing?” pressed Dwalin.

“We signed a contract with the previous company and we are covered until next summer under those terms. Mirkwood can’t levy the rent more than a certain percentage, or we can complain to the city.”

Glóin grumbled something.

“What was that, Glóin?” snapped Dwalin.

“Nothing.”

“No, No. Sounds like you had something to say about those platinum blonde bastards.”

Glóin was silent. Thorin glared at Dwalin for interrupting the meeting. Ori and Bombur tried to look inconspicuous, sipping their drinks. Ori’s eyes darted between Dwalin and Glóin. Bombur looked at the floor, shuffling uncomfortably. Glóin finally spoke.

“They have been aggressively acquiring businesses lately,” said Glóin.

“How do you know that?” asked Dwalin.

“Well I don’t just read the funnies when I open the paper,” Glóin replied scathingly.

“Dwalin,” cautioned Thorin, holding up his hand to halt the tirade he sensed was oncoming. Dwalin clamped his mouth shut, but he still glared at Glóin. Glóin returned the nasty look and Thorin cleared his throat.

“Glóin, what is it you know?” Thorin asked.

“Smaug Inc. has been selling off some of their assets and Mirkwood has been the first one to snap them up,” Glóin said.

“What the hell newspaper are you reading?” exploded Dwalin.

“Alright fine!” Glóin yelled back. “I have some stock in their company and I have been doing my research!”

“You’ve stock in Mirkwood?” Dwalin said with disgust.

“Hedging my bets,” Glóin mumbled.

“It’s fine, Dwalin,” said Thorin calmly.

Dwalin cast Glóin a withering glare and walked out of the room. There was a clattering in the forge. Ori and Bombur looked uncomfortable and Thorin dismissed them to see to the Saturday checklist. He fixed Glóin with an impassive stare and Glóin returned the look.

“Why do you have stock in Mirkwood really?” Thorin asked.

“I bought some when it was cheap, before you hired me. I didn’t want to sell it and now it’s doing quite well.”

“Hm.”

“You’re not going to fire me over this?”

“No, Glóin. Most companies have something about competitors built into their contracts, but we didn’t think it would be necessary.”

Glóin exhaled in relief. Thorin stood and left the office.

“Get the accounts in order and we’ll talk budget this afternoon since you weren’t available to do so on Monday,” Thorin said pointedly, before pulling the door shut.

oOo

Come downstairs. We need to meet.

Tauriel stood in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body and her hair dripping water on the floor. She had jumped out of the shower in haste to check the text message. She tried to deny to herself that a little part of her had hoped it was Kíli. Instead it was Bolg, and something about simply reading his words in her unclothed state seemed made her feel a little violated.

She left the bathroom with a shudder, towelling off as she crossed the hardwood, her hair leaving a trail of water droplets behind her. She pulled on some jeans and a faded Rivendell University sweatshirt, and quickly tied her hair into a soggy bun. She shoved her feet into her boots without worrying about socks, grabbed her keys, and trudged down the stairs.

She saw the town car on the street, gleaming black despite the grey sky. As she approached, the door opened. Bolg did not emerge so she slid into the back seat with him, closing the door behind her. The driver accelerated slowly.

“Good morning,” said Bolg cordially.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Nowhere. We just don’t want to scare the neighbours, lurking about.”

“What is the purpose of this meeting?” asked Tauriel stiffly.

“Always business, with you,” he smiled.

“It’s only business with me,” she said coldly.

He handed her a small sealed packet.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Rohypnol.”

“For what?”

Her heart was pounding in her ears.

“For your little friend,” said Bolg.

“I think you’ll need to explain this a little more thoroughly,” she said hesitantly.

“You and your boy drink an awful lot—not a judgement, just an observation—but this seems the perfect way to…get him where he needs to be.”

“Where is that exactly?”

“Into…a bargaining position,” he replied evasively.

She shook her head, staring at the little white square in her hand.

“You’re not really in a position to refuse,” said Bolg.

“You don’t have anyone better to do your dirty work?” she asked hollowly.

“Who better than the woman who seems to have stolen his heart? You stayed over at his place I noticed…don’t you think he’s a bit…young for you?” Bolg teased.

Tauriel cast him a dark look, disturbed that Bolg had been following her so closely. She had no glib remarks for this, and felt she should have been more aware that she was being monitored so carefully.

“Look, get this done before Friday and you get a bonus. Contact me, let me know where you’ll be, slip him a little of this and bring him out. We won’t take the town car, it’ll be a white cab. You call me as though you’re calling a cab and we’ll be there,” he explained.

She nodded numbly.

“Looks like this is your stop,” he said, as they pulled up in front of her building.

She stumbled out of the car and closed the door. The window rolled down behind her, and Bolg eyed her intently.

“Don’t screw this up.”

9 October 2013

Kíli’s excitement about Tauriel staying over set off an alarm in Fíli’s head. His brother was not one to text regularly, unless he was sending Fíli pictures that made him laugh. Fíli did not really understand what was so funny about a little bell pepper growing inside of a larger one, or a building that looks like a face, or a pile of ants on a doughnut Kíli had left on the floor...especially not the ants. Certainly, he could not remember his brother ever texting him about women.

We’re going out tonight!

Fíli stared at the text. He certainly did not feel comfortable with Tauriel, regardless of why his uncle had fired her. Maybe it was because she was older, used to dating men in their thirties. Now she seemed to be stringing along his little brother…his immature, unaware, unthinking little brother. Angrily, Fíli stepped out of the library and dialled Kíli.

“Hey, Fíli. What’s up?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Thorin fired Tauriel. You can’t just go dating her!” said Fíli.

“Well it’s not exactly a date…” Kíli conceded.

“Why is she in Rivendell? Why are you hanging around together?”

“I told you. She and Legolas broke up and she wanted to come back to her university town.”

“So?”

“Fíli, I can hang out with her, alright. Why are you in such a bad mood lately? Did you check out the seminar for grad school?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“You know what I think,” said Kíli, the kindness in his voice had melted to something more confrontational.

“What, Kíli?” snapped Fíli.

“That you don’t like it when other people find…romance.”

“That’s,” Fíli huffed. “No. It doesn’t…I just…Tauriel is bad news, okay?”

“Right, okay. Why don’t you find someone instead of studying all the time? Maybe then you’ll see what the rest of us are on about.”

“Kíli…”

“Class now. Hanging up.”

“Kíli!”

But he was speaking to silence and the flashing call timer. Irritably, Fíli returned to the table in the library where he had left his books. He shut them and crammed them into his bag, unable to study anymore. He tried to calm his breathing as he walked home, but he could not help but feel angry that Kíli thought all of his problems could be solved by a little romance.

oOo

“Sorry,” Tauriel apologized to Kíli.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he said.

“I left you waiting though,” she said.

“I was a little late, too. Shall we?”

She nodded and they entered the dim bar. It was close to campus, and was a regular hang out for many of the students. They often had bands from the university play during the week, and sometimes unsigned artists from across the region on the weekends. Tauriel was familiar with it from her undergraduate days, and it had changed very little since she had been away.

“Your friends’ band…what do they call themselves?” asked Tauriel.

The sound of the all-girl band fell somewhere into the indie art-pop to Tauriel’s ears. She was bemused to see that all five girls donned cat ears and tails as they played.

“Miss Kitty Fantastico,” Kíli said.

Tauriel nodded as they took a seat at a small table that had been pushed off to the side to make room on the dance floor. Tauriel ordered several rounds of shots for herself and Kíli. He was smiling sort of dopily at her.

“What?” she asked.

“How come you’re not very drunk?” he asked.

“I thought your friends might challenge me to a shoot off again so I had like…four slices of bread and a doughnut...” she said, not entirely lying.

The music changed, the first few guitar notes of a song that Tauriel found familiar. A cover, and not as fast as the songs they were covering earlier. She looked back at Kíli, who was glancing at the dance floor.

“Do you want to...” he left the question hanging.

“Dance?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

He looked so hopeful but her heart was pounding in anticipation of what she had to do. He was probably intoxicated enough that she could slip it in his next drink…if she got the chance.

“Yeah, alright,” she heard herself agreeing.

She took the hand he offered, and a smile crossed his face. He was tipsier than she thought he would be after the shots and stumbled a little. Perhaps he was just giddy, she decided as he placed a hand on her waist.

“Did you skip dinner?” she questioned.

“I had a class right before this,” he said.

“Oh, well then…”

“I’m fine though,” he said.

Tauriel rested her chin against his shoulder, wondering if he could feel her apprehension. Maybe he mistook it for something else. As the song wrapped up and Miss Kitty Fantastico launched into a faster song she stepped away from him.

“A pitcher?” she asked.

He looked indecisive.

“On me,” she prodded.

“Okay then,” he said with a smile.

“Hey Kíli!” called a voice from in the crowd.

Another student clapped him on the shoulder and Tauriel gestured that she would order the pitcher. She drummed on the surface of the bar nervously as the bartender poured the drink and slid two pint glasses across to her. She settled her tab and took the pitcher to the table. She glanced at Kíli who was talking to two other young men, one hand under his arm, the other scrubbing the stubble on his jaw as he nodded his agreement.

Taking a deep, breath she surreptitiously emptied the packet into his glass and poured him a drink. It seemed to fizz a little, and she slowed her pour, hoping it would be mistaken for foam. She could feel her pulse in her head, her chest tightening. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Kíli joined her as she poured herself a drink.

He was talkative as they drank, his cheeks flushed from the heat. She could feel her lips, bloodless around the rim of her glass. He smiled, doing most of the taking about German Expressionist Films. She nodded her agreement, though she had almost no clue what he was talking about

“See, the thing about Metropolis is you watch it without context and you think it’s brilliant, but by 1927 no one was interested in expressionism anymore. The whole event was bigger than most blockbusters, but it didn’t really do so well.”

“I’m going to the restroom,” she said when he took a breath.

“Oh, okay. I’ll be here,” he said.

She nodded and escaped to the small bathroom, slipping into a free stall. She could hear two other girls complaining as they fixed their hair in front of the mirror. She took a moment to breathe. Once the girls left she stepped out in front of the mirror and splashed some water on her face. She could see the alarm in her eyes, and she sincerely hoped no one else could. Another deep breath and she was back out with Kíli, who had sloppily divided the rest of the pitcher between their glasses.

“I think I’ve had too much,” he said, his speech slurred.

“Do you want to go home?” she asked numbly.

He leaned his head on his hand. Tauriel pulled out her phone and then shoved it back into her pocket nervously, trying to think what in order she should do this. She walked around the table and grabbed Kíli’s arm, encouraging him to get up. He stood, wobbling a bit.

“C’mon,” she said, her throat catching.

“I’m really dizzy. I should have eaten,” he lamented.

“We’ll get a cab,” she said.

“No, I can’t…”

“It’s fine. I’ve got the cab covered.”

They left the club and walked down the street. She called Bolg as promised, her voice shaking, hoping he would not arrive. Kíli sat down on the edge of the sidewalk around the corner from the bar.

“Kíli, what are you doing? Stand up,” Tauriel said, pulling on his hand.

“Can’t…’m so tired,” he slurred.

The white cab that Bolg had promised came around the corner and halted in front of them. Tauriel let go of Kíli’s arm and backed away from him. Bolg and the driver hoisted him into the back of the cab.

“Cheque is in the mail,” Blog said glibly.

“Tauriel?” Kíli called.

Tauriel backed up against the side of the boarded-up convenience store. Bolg gave her a dismissive wave as he climbed into the cab and closed the door. They sped off into the evening. Tauriel was surprised to wipe tears from her eyes with her trembling fingers. She took a few steps, meaning to find her way home. Instead she stumbled behind the abandoned building, her hands on the crumbing brick, and vomited until she could only gag.

Something in the back of her mind reminded her she had to leave the scene. She stumbled home, disoriented and wiping tears from her hot cheeks.


	13. The First 48 I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10 October, 2013. One day before speaking to the PI.

Thursday, 10 October 2013  
6:40 AM

“You should really call it quits with that mid-life crisis and get a real car,” Thorin said.  
Dwalin shook the early morning rain from the sleeves of his jacket as he settled into the passenger seat for Thorin’s car. Thorin turned out of the lot and headed for the office.

“You’re just jealous,” Dwalin said.

“Yes that's it. Ori’s not in today, so etchings are going to have to wait until tomorrow. Glóin informed me we’re going to have to recalculate our price per piece on some of our swords. Think you can work with him on that?” Thorin briefed Dwalin.

“We need it done today?” Dwalin asked.

“Better sooner than later, we need to raise prices and we need to figure out by how much. Bombur’s at the wares show for the next four days, so you’d better have some replicas kicking around.”

“We’ve been over this already. The wares show is dealt with, van’s all packed,” Dwalin said.

“Good.”

“Why are you all business this morning?” Dwalin asked.

“I’m just concerned that we haven’t recovered from when we shut down operations.”

“Can we fire Glóin? That would help us cut our losses,” grumbled Dwalin.

“He’s an asshole, but he knows our business. It’s less expensive to keep him than to get a new accountant.”

Thorin pulled into the shop’s lot, as close to the door as he could manage.

“We have mail,” mused Dwalin.

A heavy yellow envelope leaned against the door, protected from the downpour by the awning. Dwalin picked it up and unlocked the door, reading the ink on the front.

“It’s for you,” he said, handing it back to Thorin.

Thorin flicked on the store lights and unlocked the office, while Dwalin started the coffeemaker and lit the forge fire. He turned on the radio to his favourite station and went back to check on the coffee. Bombur walked into the forge to check in with Dwalin before he left.

“I’ll make sure that the custom orders are logged properly,” Bombur assured him.

“Right, because it’s important that they get the white slips and we keep the yellow and pink slips,” Dwalin reminded him.

“Dwalin…it was one time…four years ago…”

“Call the office if you need anything.”

“It’s not my first wares show,” Bombur sighed.

Bombur walked back through the shop, swinging the van keys on the Dunland University lanyard.

“Good luck!” Dwalin called.

Bombur waved at Dwalin without looking back, his other hand on the door as Glóin barrelled into the shop. The accountant lowered the collar of his jacket, which he had been holding above his head to keep himself dry. He stood with his glasses in his hand for a moment. Bombur closed the door and Dwalin heard him start the van and back out of the lot.

Glóin headed straight for the coffee pot, his wet jacket discarded across the counter. Dwalin gave the jacket a look of disgust—as though it had personally offended him—and walked into the office, closing the door sharply behind him. Thorin leaned with his hands on this desk, his back to Dwalin.

“You alright?” asked Dwalin cautiously.

Thorin made an indistinct noise and Dwalin approached him. Thorin tapped at the papers on his desk, the yellow envelope was torn open and resting on the computer keyboard. Dwalin found the air suddenly too thin as he took in the contents of the envelope. A Polaroid of Kíli tied to a chair with that morning’s paper held by someone out of frame. Beside the photo a single, unfolded sheet.

Bring the USB to the warehouse on Water Street. Tomorrow 10 PM. No cops or he dies.

Dwalin’s stomach churned, his eyes seemed stuck to the photo. Kíli’s head was jerked back to show his face by a hand gripping his hair. His eyes seemed glazed, but he did not appear to be harmed. He was shaken from his trance as Glóin entered. Dwalin grabbed the note and photo and slid them back into the envelope. Thorin started at Dwalin’s sudden action.

“Glóin, if Bombur calls tell him to call my cell,” Dwalin said, gesturing for Thorin to follow him out of the office.

“I’m not your bloody secretary,” grumbled Glóin.

Thorin’s face was bloodless as Dwalin shut Glóin in the office behind them.

“Here, sit down,” Dwalin said.

“No, we have to go. We have to deal with this,” Thorin said numbly.

“How?”

“I dunno! It’s Kíli! This is my fault…”

Thorin drew in a shaky breath and started heading out to his car. Dwalin took the keys from Thorin and closed the door of the shop forcefully behind him.

“I can drive,” said Thorin.

“Do you even know where you want to go?” countered Dwalin, getting into the driver’s seat anyway.

“The warehouse…”

“He won’t be there. They’re not idiots,” said Dwalin.

“We have to…see the professor…” Thorin reasoned, finally sinking into the passenger seat.

“Thorin, we need to tell Dís.”

“Go to the university!”

“We can’t leave Dís in the dark. We can catch her before she leaves for work. Your professor won’t even be there yet,” said Dwalin as he pulled out of the lot.

“I can’t…” Thorin said.

“What?”

“Tell Dís.”

“You can’t keep it from her!”

Thorin sat silently, staring absently at the dashboard.

“This could get…very ugly,” Thorin said brokenly.

“You spared her Frerin. You can’t spare her this,” Dwalin said bluntly.

Thorin just stared at nothing as they pulled into the driveway of Dís’s bungalow. They sat for a moment before Thorin followed Dwalin in through the garage door. The kitchen light was on, casting its orangey-yellow glow. Dís rushed into the hallway, she was in a fluffy bathrobe and her wet hair hung in tendrils around her face. She looked alarmed.

“Thorin, Dwalin…I thought I was being robbed. What are you doing here?”

Dwalin looked to Thorin pointedly. He stepped towards his sister and took her softly by the arm to the sofa, where she sat beside him looking alarmed at his grieved face. Dwalin followed, unable to sit, he stood restlessly behind the recliner.

“Dís,” Thorin said softly.

“What’s happened?” she asked numbly.

“Kíli…”

“What’s happened to Kíli?” she asked angrily.

“He’s alive. He was taken…hostage…”

“What? Who took him? What is this…” a realisation dawned on her. “Oh my god…oh my god, this was you! This was you and your fucking blackmailing!”

She shoved Thorin away from her, and backed away from the sofa in horror. She stared at her brother, he face a mix of anger and revulsion. Thorin tried to remain stony, but the lines in his face seemed more pronounced than usual. He remained silent, staring at his clenched hands.

“Where…the hell…is my…son?” she asked through gritted teeth as tears built in her eyes.

“We don’t…” Dwalin offered.

“SHUT UP!” she screamed at him, then turned back to her brother.

“Dís, we’ll get him back,” Thorin said.

“How the hell are you going to do that? Did you call the police? What is this about?” she yelled everything at him in one breath.

“We can’t call the police. You’re right, they’re looking for the USB.”

“Well then give it to them! Fuck, Thorin what is wrong with you?” she said, covering her eyes with her shaking hand.

Dwalin looked Thorin in the eyes, incredulously. Thorin shook his head minutely; he had not told her about the theft. Dwalin opened his mouth, unsure if he would even say anything, but Thorin silenced him with a desperate look.

“Tomorrow, we’re going tomorrow, as per the instructions,” Thorin told her hurriedly.  
Dís walked into the kitchen and Dwalin followed her cautiously. She placed her hands on the side of the sink, trying to right her breathing.

“I want to be sick,” she said.

Dwalin approached her apprehensively, and stood next to her. The sound of heavy footsteps and a door slamming signalled Thorin’s departure. Dís started at the sound, and wiped her eyes.

“We should probably say something to Fíli,” Dwalin said quietly.

Dís shook her head.

“Dís, we should bring him home, make sure nothing happens to him.”

“It was just Kíli who was working on the USB,” she said numbly.

She sank to the ground and rested her head against the cupboard. Dwalin knelt down in front of her, taking her hands. She did not look at him; just let the tears slide down her cheeks.

“Dís! Don’t do this. You need to call Fíli.”

“Fíli…yes…how could I have let this happen…”

“Don’t be stupid! You didn’t let anything happen, things just happen.”

“He’s too friendly, always talking to strangers, doing things he shouldn’t do…” she whispered detachedly.

Dwalin stood.

“Get up,” he said.

Dís just sighed.

“Dís! Get up! You’re not the only person to ever lose…” Dwalin trailed off, afraid to verbally write-off Kíli’s life.

“He’s my son, Dwalin,” she said quietly.

“And he’s still alive, but you have another son that you can’t ignore just because you’re upset.”

Dís had no response. She sank down to lay silently on the floor, tears still streaming. Dwalin looked at her worriedly, then stepped out into the living room to phone Fíli.

“Dwalin?” came a voice on the end of the line.

“Fíli. I’m coming to get you.”

“Why? What’s happened? Is it Thorin?”

“We’ll talk when I get there.”

“Dwalin, you can’t just call me and say that! Is it Mum?”

“We’ll talk when I get there,” Dwalin repeated, not wanting Fíli to do something irrational at the news of his brother.

“Dwalin!”

“Fíli, I will be there in one hour and you had better be ready to go.”

He hung up and walked back into the kitchen.

“Dís, you need to get up and get dressed.”

She did not move. He crouched beside her once more and pulled her into a sitting position. Her eyes looked through him. He sighed and gathered her short frame in his arms and laid her on the sofa. He covered her with the ancient afghan that hung over the back of the armchair.

“Dís, I’m taking your car to get Fíli,” he said.

He gathered the car keys from the hook by the garage entrance. Almost as an afterthought, he turned back and kissed her briefly on the forehead. She blinked slowly but did not respond. He sighed and headed out to start the car.

10:02 AM

“I believe I told you to schedule an appointment in the future,” Gandalf said sharply.  
Thorin had been standing outside of Professor Grey’s office for the better part of the morning, afraid to miss the disorganised professor.

“This is rather urgent,” Thorin said.

“It’s always urgent with you,” grumbled Gandalf.

“My nephew’s been kidnapped,” Thorin said, his voice low.

“Come in,” Gandalf gestured, as he unlocked the office.

Gandalf closed the door behind him and dispensed with the usual formalities of insulting Thorin. He went immediately to his desk, but did not sit. Instead he made an attempt to call two different numbers. He grumbled at his apparent lack of success.

“Damn. He’s either undercover or ignoring his calls…I would assume the latter…”

“I’m sorry, who is?” asked Thorin.

“Bilbo Baggins…I am sure I gave you his card…”

“You did.”

“He is particularly good with…ah…sensitive issues,” said Gandalf.

Thorin dropped the rain-spotted envelope on Gandalf’s desk. Gandalf sighed and opened it. He cringed slightly as he took in the contents.

“We should make haste,” said Professor Grey, putting on his cap and gesturing for Thorin to follow him

10:58 AM

“Dwalin, why did you ignore my calls? Where’s my mother? Why do you have her car?” Fíli asked everything at once, his voice raised to a level Dwalin had rarely heard from the reserved young man.

“Lad, sit down,” Dwalin sighed.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, but he sat in the passenger seat.

Dwalin thought the poor kid looked more distressed than he had ever seen. Dwalin inhaled deeply, unable to look at Fíli’s face, already so wrought with tension.

“Your brother’s been taken hostage,” the last word sounded strange even as he said it.

“I don’t understand. Is this a joke?” said Fíli tonelessly.

“He was probably taken sometime last night, we don’t know who’s doing it…someone trying to extort something from your uncle.”

“The USB?”

Dwalin wondered if he was the last to know about that.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Is he alright?” Fíli asked.

“He’s alive. That’s all we know.”

Dwalin sneaked a glance at Fíli. His lips had gone shockingly pale and he squeezed his hands together on his lap. Dwalin squeezed his shoulder but Fíli started and drew away from the touch.

“I’m taking you home. We want to make sure you’re safe,” he said.

“I don’t want to…”

“You mother needs you,” sighed Dwalin, shifting into drive.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s not handling the news well.”

“Yeah well maybe you should be the one to cheer her,” Fíli snapped.

There was a measured pause.

“What do you mean by that?” Dwalin rumbled.

“Nothing. I didn’t mean anything.”

“Lad, if you have something to share then spit it out,” said Dwalin darkly.

Fíli remained silent, his pale features drawn. It occurred to Dwalin exactly why Fíli was being so confrontational. He had been dreading this moment with Fíli, and in light of Kíli’s disappearance Dwalin could tell that Fíli’s anger was being redirected. Dwalin was ready to face it, let the boy rage if that was what he wanted.

“Is there something you want to discuss?”

“Nope,” said Fíli.

After a short silence Dwalin turned on the radio. Fíli stared out the window. Fíli had always seemed wary of him, but that was perhaps just Fíli. Dwalin held suspicions that   
Fíli had never made any friends without the help of his brother. The music turned off abruptly as Fíli slammed his hand on the dial.

“How the fuck are you so calm?” Fíli exploded.

“I’m not,” Dwalin confessed.

This was clearly not the answer that Fíli was expecting. He did not press Dwalin, but the insanity of the morning was pooling in Dwalin’s mind, an eerie detachment creeping in.

“I don’t know where your uncle went; he won’t return my calls. Your mother just…stopped. Someone needed to make sure you’re safe,” he said.

“I’m an adult. I can take care of myself,” Fíli responded obstinately.

“Then maybe I just wanted someone a little more level-headed to help me out!” Dwalin shouted, breaking heavily at the red light.

Fíli remained silent as Dwalin regained his composure.

“Maybe that’s too big of an expectation to put on your shoulders right now. I shouldn’t—”

“No. You’re right,” Fíli said quietly.

“I am?”

“Yeah. Mum goes mad over little things. I can’t imagine how she’s taking this…and Thorin…I don’t really know what’s going on with him lately…”

It was Dwalin’s turn to sit in stunned silence.

“I’m just…I want to help. I can’t stand the thought…”

Fíli did not need to finish the thought for Dwalin to understand the depths of Fíli’s fears.

“We’ll get him back lad,” Dwalin said emptily.

1:56 PM

“Turn right up here,” Gandalf directed from the passenger seat.

“Where?”

“Into that lane.”

“It’s a puddle not a lane.”

“This is where we will find our PI,” Gandalf assured him.

They had been driving through the muddy back roads of an unfamiliar region for what felt hours. Thorin was fairly sure he was lost the moment he saw the Hobbiton sign when they left the quiet paved road earlier. Gandalf seemed sure that they were going in the right direction, but Thorin suspected the old professor was addled, and had been driving them in circles. Nonetheless, Thorin took the muddy lane to a small cabin, hidden from the dirt road by the pines.

“Don’t even get any fucking bars up here,” Thorin grumbled, anxiously looking at his phone.

“He values his solitude.”

Gandalf and Thorin stepped out into the mud and picked their way to the front door. Gandalf rapped on the weathered wood. There was a clatter inside.

“Bilbo Baggins, we know you’re in there,” Gandalf called.

The door opened a crack and Baggins took in the two men who stood on his front step. Upon recognising Gandalf he unlatched the chain and slowly pulled the door open.

“Gandalf,” he said, and he looked over to his companion, eyebrows raised.

“Thorin Durinson,” Gandalf introduced Thorin.

“Come in,” he said apprehensively.

“We require your services,” said Gandalf.

“I’m not in the office,” he said straight-faced.

“My nephew has been taken hostage and I cannot meet their only request,” Thorin said.  
He handed the envelope to Baggins. The shorter man took one look at its contents and sighed.

“Please, come to the kitchen. Sit down and tell me what you know,” he said, his dutiful manner still tinged with irritation.

6:02 PM

Dís had barely glanced at Fíli when he had arrived. She sat on the sofa, wrapped in her bathrobe and afghan, staring out of the bay window on the other side of the living room. He had tried speaking to her but the look she gave him curdled his insides. She asked for her brother sometime in the mid afternoon, but neither Fíli nor Dwalin had been able to reach Thorin.

“Dís, maybe you should go to bed,” suggested Dwalin.

“I can’t.”

Dwalin sighed and looked at his cell, ducking into the garage. Fíli stared at his mother, a feeling of contempt flaring in his throat like bile.

“Maybe you should do something,” Fíli said under his breath.

“You’ve always had a smart mouth!” she snapped at him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Always sarcastic! Fíli, I don’t know how to deal with you!”

Fíli was surprised at her sudden hostility. He exited into the garage to avoid further confrontation. Dwalin leaned back against the tool bench, smoking and speaking on his cell phone.

“Right Bombur, I’ll be there shortly,” he concluded hanging up.

“Mum hates it when you and Thorin smoke in here,” Fíli said sullenly.

“What was she yelling about?” Dwalin asked.

Fíli shrugged jerkily.

“I have to go unlock the shop for Bombur. Glóin locked it up and left early, looks like. Prick.”

“Can I go with you?”

“Don’t you want to stay with your mother?” asked Dwalin, surprised.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I just can’t be around her anymore today. I need to do something or I’ll lose my mind,” Fíli said.

“I’ll let her know we’re going. Get in the car.”

Dwalin disappeared into the house and Fíli slid into the passenger seat and awaited his return. After what seemed like an unreasonably long time, Dwalin returned. He got into the driver’s seat, tight lipped. Fíli did not question him. Dís had probably expressed her unhappiness to Dwalin as well.

The drive was a silent affair. The rain had reduced to a light drizzle, but the world still looked bleak. Something in Fíli’s stomach clenched, his emotional exhaustion from the day leaving him feeling empty and horribly helpless. There was nothing they could do. Thorin was ostensibly dealing with the issue of the USB. Fíli, Dwalin, and Dís were left with nothing to do but wait for him to contact them. The lack of response from his uncle weighed heavily on Fíli’s mind.

They pulled into the lot at Thorin & Co. and Bombur stepped out of the van. He looked annoyed, which, for the mild-mannered Bombur, might as well be irrational rage. He handed Dwalin a clipboard of fluttering papers, which Dwalin nodded at briefly, before unlocking the door. Bombur followed Dwalin into the shop with a few items and the door closed behind them.

Fíli anxiously picked at the worn grey cuff on the sweater while he awaited Dwalin’s return. Kíli’s sweater, he thought with a jolt. It was the sweater that he had borrowed the morning after they had moved Kíli into his new apartment. Fíli took a few deep breaths, trying to stop the prickling he felt in his eyes.

A sudden flash and cascade of broken glass from the shop halted his thoughts. He felt, rather than heard the sudden sound. Jumping out of the car, Fíli stood frozen, taking in the acrid smoke and blown out windows of the shop.

Dwalin.

His legs carried him to the door, almost independent of his mind. He pulled open the front door, and saw the office door had been blown from its hinges and now rested against the counter. Flames licked the inside of the office and smoke filled the air.

“DWALIN! BOMBUR!”

Bombur rushed from the forge to the front of the shop, also hollering for Dwalin. Fíli’s eyes scanned frantically.

“Behind the counter!” hollered Bombur, hurrying behind the counter.

Fíli leapt over the counter. Dwalin lay very still under the triangle the door formed with the counter. Bombur grabbed Dwalin’s wrists and pulled him from under the door with a feat of surprising strength.

“C’mon, Dwalin” he urged.

Fíli and Bombur managed to pull the muscled arms over their shoulders and drag Dwalin out of the shop onto the wet pavement. His bald head was bleeding, undoubtedly from where he had struck it on the counter when the door had blown off of the office. Fíli’s hands shook as he gripped Dwalin’s shoulder, listening for a breath.

“Was it a train?” mumbled Dwalin.

“No,” said Fíli with relief.

Dwalin sighed and closed his eyes.

“Dwalin, stay awake,” Fíli said.

Bombur was fumbling with his cell phone, crouched on Dwalin’s other side, one meaty hand gripping his mentor’s arm as he spoke to the operator.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Fíli begged, holding the sleeve of his sweater on the bleeding gash across Dwalin’s skull, his hands shaking uncontrollably. 

“They’re on their way,” Bombur said.

Fíli did not hear Bombur as he pleaded with Dwalin.

“I can’t be the calm one…”


	14. The First 48 II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone reacts to the stress.

Thursday, 10 October 2013  
8:52 PM

“You’ve reached Thorin Durinson. Please leave a message.”

“Thorin. It’s Fíli. You need to come to the hospital. Something happened at the shop, Dwalin’s…call me back, please.”

After several attempts to call Thorin, Fíli finally left a message. He had left a message with his mother what seemed like an hour ago. He was not sure how to handle their lack of response on top of everything else that had happened that day. Bombur had agreed to talk to the police about the explosion and Fíli had gone with Dwalin in the ambulance.

The man he had spoken with (a nurse? He looked like a nurse) had told him that Dwalin needed to be admitted for emergency surgery (he thought had heard the paramedics say something about internal bleeding). Fíli sat in the waiting room, shivering from the damp sweater, or perhaps the emotional distress; he could not really tell anymore. He set his phone on his knees, and gripped his elbows as though he was trying to keep his insides from spilling out. The rusty stain of Dwalin’s blood on his sleeve made him nauseous every time it crept into his vision.

“Fíli.”

He looked up at the sound of his name to see Bombur crossing the room towards him. Bombur immediately gripped Fíli’s shoulders. Fíli thought he might cry in relief.

“Bloody press are all over this,” said Bombur.

Fíli nodded numbly.

“Shit, what happened? Why are you all alone here?” Bombur asked.

“I-I can’t get hold of Thorin or my mother,” he said.

“What’s been going on today?” Bombur asked, only a tone above a whisper.

“Not supposed to talk about it,” Fíli said.

Bombur’s phone rang, startling Fíli.

“I’m going to take this,” he said, getting up and walking out of the room.

Fíli picked up his own phone, which had fallen to the floor when he started. Holding it in his hands he willed it to ring. He almost texted Kíli out of habit, his throat constricting as he remembered…

Bombur returned and sat down beside Fíli once more, obviously unsure of how to proceed. Fíli dialled Thorin again, his throat aching with the building frustration. Thorin would know what to do if he were here; Thorin would not be sitting awkwardly, unsure of proper hospital conduct.

“Shit,” Fíli cursed, holding back a sob as Thorin’s voicemail message played.

He ended the call and shoved the phone into the sweater pocket. Bombur gripped his shoulder sympathetically as Fíli drew in a few shuddering breaths.

“It was Ori calling,” said Bombur.

“Ori? Why?” asked Fíli, drawing the unbloodied sleeve across his nose.

“He was called for the investigation. All of the employees were I guess. Starts to look pretty suspicious after your car in the same place, and Nori…well…”

“Yeah,” said Fíli.

“They wanted to speak to you too, but I told them not to bother until Dwalin…until we know he’s alright.”

Fíli nodded. He was hoping to avoid speaking to the police at all, lest they find out about his brother. Better to just make the statement when this whole ordeal was over. As it was they had not even solved the matter of his car from a month earlier.

“Ori’s going to drop by here after he goes to the police station.”

“What? Why?”

Bombur shrugged.

“Bombur,” Fíli prompted.

“Well, Dori leant him his car…”

“You asked him for a ride…you’re an incredible mooch.”

“I return my favours,” Bombur defended himself.

After a while Bombur decided to go look for some coffee. Fíli checked his phone over and over, his heart lurching painfully as he glanced Kíli’s name amongst the days-old text messages. He ensured the volume was sufficiently loud and balanced the phone on the curved arm of the chair, subconsciously picking at his nail beds as he stared at it.

“Fíli?”

Fíli glanced up to see Ori’s tiny frame.

“What happened?” he asked, sitting down.

“Dwalin’s hurt…from the explosion…”

“Yeah I did hear about that. Where’s Bombur?”

“He took off. Probably looking for a midnight snack…”

Ori glanced down at Fíli’s hands. Fíli immediately balled them into fists and shoved them into the pocket on the sweater.

“Is there something else going on?” Ori asked quietly.

Fíli nodded minutely. Ori raised his sandy eyebrows but Fíli just shook his head. Ori did not ask any further questions, just gripped Fíli’s elbow in an attempt to comfort him.

“Fíli!”

Fíli leapt to his feet as Thorin crossed the waiting room. His uncle gripped him tightly by the shoulders and Fíli could already feel his façade cracking. Thorin must have noticed as well. Fíli found himself wrapped in his uncle’s embrace, unable to articulate all of the things he wanted to yell at Thorin for having left him alone at the hospital without a word. He did not realise he was crying until Thorin was smoothing the back of his hair, whispering platitudes to calm him.

“Why didn’t you answer?” Fíli asked through clenched teeth.

“I didn’t get your message until I got back in town. Phone died.”

Fíli was shivering, trying to rein in his outburst. He pulled back, wiping his face on his sleeve. It was with discomfiture that he remembered Ori’s presence; he had just witnessed Fíli crack. Fíli took a few deep breaths, unsure what to say to his uncle. Fortunately Bombur came bouncing back into the room, sparing him the need to think of something.

“Bofur’s back! He called me from the airport—Thorin…”

“Bofur’s back…” Thorin said, glancing a little dangerously at Bombur.

“I-I…Ori…can we just—” Bombur stammered, taking a step back.

“Let’s go get him, Bombur,” said Thorin.

“But, Dwalin’s still in surgery…I can’t…” Fíli managed to choke out.

Thorin turned back to his nephew and grasped his shoulder.

“I’ll be back right away,” he said.

Fíli took a deep breath and stared desperately at his uncle.

“Someone needs to be here for Dwalin. You can do this,” Thorin reassured him.

Fíli nodded steadily and sank back into his seat beside Ori as Thorin strode out. Bombur looked back at them with a frightened glance, but followed Thorin.

“Thorin’s going to kill Bofur…” Ori said flatly.

“Why do say that?”

“I can just see it in his face. He hasn’t had a nice thing to say about him since he left…”

“You know you don’t have to stay with me Ori, Thorin’s coming back,” Fíli said.

“Do you want me to leave?” asked Ori.

Fíli met Ori’s eyes briefly and did not respond. Ori raised his eyebrows and pulled on his jacket.

“I don’t want you to go,” said Fíli quickly, dropping his head into his hands.

Ori put his jacket back over the back of the chair and settled himself.

“I just want to go to sleep and forget…” Fíli trailed off.

Fíli remained crouched with his elbows on his knees, face hidden in his hands. Tremors from the cold damp of his clothes and stress still seized him at irregular intervals. Ori put his own jacket around Fíli’s shoulders and sat quietly with him to await Thorin’s return.

11:01 PM

“He said he’d be waiting in the arrivals section,” said Bombur nervously.

Thorin stalked silently through the airport, his eyes scanning for the moustached marketer. Thorin’s eyes came to rest on Bofur, who was chatting genially with the old woman next to him.

“Don’t hit him, Thorin,” said Bombur quietly.

“We’re in an airport. I’m not going to do anything to him,” said Thorin darkly.

Thorin advanced towards Bofur, Bombur following behind, huffing and puffing to keep up with Thorin’s gait. Bofur spotted Thorin and leapt to his feet.

“Thorin. I need to talk to you,” said Bofur.

Thorin was a little taken aback.

“In the car then,” Thorin said with a nod.

Bofur pulled his suitcase behind him, levelling his walk with Thorin’s. He was almost uncomfortably close.

“I think we’re being watched,” Bofur said, barely audibly.

“Who?” asked Thorin, subtly taking in the people around them.

“I dunno.”

Thorin grumbled something about Bofur being paranoid as they made their way back to the car. Bombur grabbed the suitcase and tossed into the back seat beside him. Bofur made sure the doors were closed before he spoke, flinching slightly as Thorin turned the keys in the ignition.

“I was followed,” Bofur said.

“By whom?”

“I thought it was Mirkwood…it’s not them.”

Thorin glanced at Bofur, the lamplight from the lot reflecting in his eyes.

“It’s Smaug’s guys. We should have seen this before with the USB. The virus sent it back to Smaug Inc., not Mirkwood,” said Bofur.

“Virus? What fucking virus?” growled Thorin.

“Didn’t Nori tell you?”

Thorin clenched his teeth.

“He…died…” said Bombur softly.

Bofur’s jaw slackened. He had no response to the bombshell his brother had just dropped on him.

“He was murdered,” corrected Thorin.

“Holy…shit…when?”

“About the time you disappeared,” Thorin’s voice was harsh.

“I thought he got out! I thought he’d have told you…”

“About this virus…” said Thorin.

Bombur cringed in the back seat as Thorin stopped at the red light and turned briefly to face Bofur. Their boss looked quite mad with the shadows from the streetlamps playing across his face.

“You’d better tell me everything,” Thorin said severely.

“I was chased from my motel yesterday, by some bloke with a machete. He was right out of his fucking mind. I thought I was going to be mailed back to you in parcels,” said Bofur.

“And you came back here…?”

“I’m not proud of any of this,” protested Bofur.

“You didn’t say anything about the virus, and now Smaug’s guys have my nephew. They tracked it to his computer, because you fuckwads took off without saying anything,” said Thorin with a terrifying calm.

“What?”

Thorin slammed the yellow envelope against Bofur’s chest and Bofur fumbled with it, taking in the picture of Kíli in the half-light. He grimaced and slid it back into the envelope. Bombur pressed his knuckles to his mouth as he processed this news.

“Do you know what they did to Nori?” asked Thorin.

“Boss, don’t,” begged Bombur softly.

Bombur could not stand to hear it again. Thorin ignored him and proceeded coldly with his narrative. Bombur covered his head with his hands trying to block it out.

“I managed to get a copy of coroner’s report. They beat the shit out of him. Broke his legs with a tire-iron looked like, broken ribs, missing teeth…but whatever he found on Mirkwood…it didn’t matter as much as sending us a message…because then they garrotted him. That’s not something they normally do unless they’re trying to quickly assassinate someone…doesn’t fit the profile…but they wanted it to match up with my brother’s murder.”

“How do you know this?” Bofur asked.

“I’ve been tracking it down since you buggered off.”

Bofur covered his mouth, he looked absolutely ill, and Thorin’s erratic driving was likely making it worse.

“It all makes sense now though…Mirkwood buying up assets from Smaug. They know where the USB went and they want it back…”

“So we give it back,” said Bofur.

“It’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I said. My place was broken into, ransacked…the USB was gone…if you’re right about Smaug Inc. being behind this then it was probably Mirkwood who broke in…”

“Your place got the same treatment,” Bombur told his brother.

Bofur pushed his hat back, running his fingers along his scalp and cursing. The unhappy news of the evening seemed to be weighing heavily on the perpetually cheery man.

“Thorin, where are we going?” asked Bombur.

“Back to the hospital.”

“We can’t go home?”

“You can go home,” said Thorin.

He glanced back at Bombur in the rear-view. Bombur took a moment to unravel what Thorin was leaving unsaid.

“My brother can’t…”

“What? Thorin, I have jet-lag and the you drop this…on me…” Bofur protested.

“After what you pulled?” Thorin growled.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“Going to figure out where that USB went…and if we don’t I’ll give them your sorry skin…”

Bofur glanced back at his brother nervously. Thorin was serious. The mad gleam in his eye promised it.

Friday, 11 October 2013  
1:27 AM

Thorin insisted Ori take Bombur home when they arrived at the hospital. Ori asked no questions; he seemed relieved to be dismissed for the night. Bombur shot Bofur a worried look.

“Bombur, just go. Don’t worry,” said Bofur, “I don't think Thorin will kill me.”

Bombur followed Ori miserably and Bofur sank down into a seat. Thorin returned almost immediately, and gestured for Bofur to follow him. Thorin remained silent as Bofur followed him down the hall. He carefully peeked into the room and gestured for Bofur to be quiet.

They passed the vacant bed and the curtain that divided the room. Bofur sat on wide window ledge, staying out of Thorin’s way. Fíli had fallen asleep in the chair at Dwalin’s bedside, the grey hood of his bloodstained sweater drawn over his head. Dwalin also snored softly, beneath his various tubes and sensors.

“Fíli?” Thorin said softy.

Fíli did not stir. Thorin gently pulled back Fíli’s hood, and the youth started and blinked at him in surprise. Whether Fíli’s eyes were red from tears or lack of sleep was difficult to tell. Thorin laid his hands on his nephew’s shoulders, but Fíli shrugged him away.

“We need to wake Dwalin every half-hour for the concussion. I don’t know if the nurse came in to do it,” said Fíli, reaching over to shake the tattooed forearm.

“It’s alright, I’ll do it,” said Thorin.

“Be careful, he has broken ribs,” Fíli warned, pulling his hood back up and retreating into the relative warmth of the dingy sweater.

Dwalin awoke slowly and blinked at Thorin. The left side of his mouth raised in a hint of a smile beneath his beard.

“It’s this guy,” he said hoarsely.

“Yeah.”

“You’re a jackass.”

“Hm.”

Dwalin closed his eyes and was snoring almost instantly. Apparently he was still foggy from his earlier anaesthesia. Thorin stared at him for a moment then looked back at Fíli.

“That’s better than last time,” Fíli said.

“You don’t look well,” Thorin told him.

Fíli nodded. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes seemed glassy. He never could hold up well under lack of sleep, Thorin reflected. Thorin glanced at Bofur, who was sliding down into a resting position in the window.

“C’mon,” said Thorin, gripping Fíli under the arm and pulling him to his feet.

“What about Dwalin?”

“He’s in a hospital, he’ll be alright.”

Fíli shook off Thorin’s grip, rubbing at his eyes.

“Let’s go Bofur,” Thorin said firmly.

Fíli seemed surprised for a moment to see Bofur, as though he had not realised he was in the room. He was probably too exhausted to ask, and Thorin was not prepared to tell.

“Where are we going?” Bofur asked cautiously.

“My place. I have arrangements to meet with a detective first thing in the morning. You’re not leaving my sight.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I’ve already had my run-in and after what you’ve told me I’m convinced right beside you is about as safe as I can get…short of maybe Antarctica…” Bofur mused.

Fíli reacted to the cold night air, looking slightly more alert as they made their way to Thorin’s car. He checked his phone with a frown.

“Did Mum call you at all?” Fíli asked.

Thorin shook his head.

“You think she’s okay?”

“Fíli…this is just how she is,” he sighed.

Fíli nodded solemnly and slid into the back of Thorin’s car. Thorin peeked in the rear-view at his nephew as they made for home. He had already fallen asleep across the back seat.

7:02 AM

“You’re late,” grumbled Thorin.

“It’s my office,” he said, glancing at Fíli and Bofur who sat on the chrome-legged chairs in the tiny waiting room.

“I have some…new insights,” said Thorin, glancing briefly at Bofur.

“Step into my office,” Bilbo gestured.

“Stay here,” Thorin said to the other two.

Fíli watched as the door closed behind his uncle. The little sleep he had gotten on his uncle’s office futon had some how left him feeling almost as bad as he had the night before.

“Think we can get a coffee around here?” mused Bofur.

“Don’t even move, Bofur,” said Fíli quietly.

“If you think I’m trying to run off, you’re wrong.”

Fíli did not respond, unable to construct a suitable reply that did not include the word ‘coward’. Instead he stared at his phone; the battery had died. He looked out into the damp morning. Standing up, he peeked out the door and saw a phone booth down the street. He glanced back at Bofur.

“Whatever you’re doing, lad, I’ll stay here,” he said.

“Don’t call me that,” said Fíli coldly.

He stepped out, down the damp steps. As he proceeded to the booth he looked over his shoulder, uncertain that Bofur really would stay where he was put. The man had run off at the first sign of trouble, after all. Fíli did not know what his uncle’s plans for him were, but it seemed that there was some coercion maintaining Bofur’s presence.

Fíli opened the phone booth and dialled the only number he knew by heart: his mother’s home phone. After four rings he was sure she would pick up; he played with the zipper on the jacket that Thorin had leant him, silently counting a fifth ring.

“Hello?”

“Mum!” he said with relief.

“Fíli? Where are you?”

“It’s alright I’m with Thorin. Why didn’t you answer me last night?”

“I was sleeping.”

“You said you didn’t want to sleep.”

“I didn’t,” she said with a note of finality.

Fíli let the matter be.

“Mum, after we left there was an explosion at the shop. Dwalin’s in the hospital—”

“I gathered as much from your messages. Fíli, where the hell’s my car?”

Fíli retraced his steps from the day before.

“Dwalin and I took it to the shop…”

“What?”

“Thorin’s shop, not the auto shop.”

Dís sighed on the line.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go see Dwalin. Stay out of whatever your uncle is doing.”

“Mum…”

“I’m serious, Fíli.”

“Alright.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” said Fíli awkwardly as he hung up.

This change in his mother was certainly unexpected. As he walked down the street he tried not to dwell on his mother’s state too much. He considered the large possibility that this was a medicated version of rationality. At least Dwalin would have someone with him at the hospital; Balin would not likely make it home from his company’s international office until later.

Fíli returned to the PI’s waiting room. Bofur had kept his word and stayed exactly where he was left. He looked sympathetically towards Fíli as he entered, and Fíli felt his eyes narrow at Bofur almost involuntarily. He remained standing near the door with his arms crossed, reluctant to return to his seat beside Bofur.

“Fíli. I’m sorry,” said Bofur.

Fíli had nothing to say in response, and simply nodded.

“This can’t be easy on you…”

“I’m just trying not to think about it right now,” Fíli said dismissively.

“We’re going to work this out.”

“Right.”

Thorin walked out of the office, closing the door behind him. His face was grim.

“Fíli, go interview,” he said.

Fíli reluctantly headed to the interview room, at Thorin’s insistence. Thorin gestured for Bofur to follow him.

“Where are you going?” Fíli asked.

“Following up a lead. Do what Baggins tells you,” he said, all but dragging Bofur from the building.

Fíli watched Thorin leave and entered the office to speak with Baggins.

8:51 AM

“Boss, I am absolutely not kosher with this,” said Bofur, pushing up his heavy glasses.

Thorin glared at him from across the alleyway.

“I mean…kidnapping, beating…that’s ugly stuff,” protested Bofur.

“My nephew is with Smaug’s hired thugs. You know what they do as well as I do,” Thorin growled.

“He has excellent legal counsel. He’s the son of the fricken CEO!”

“That’s exactly why I want him.”

Bofur stared miserably at the subway exit. There was no way they would not be identified in the morning rush. How Thorin intended to get him…

“Checking his watch, blonde hair, sun-glasses, grey suit.”

“I see him. Stay put,” said Thorin, venturing out from the side of the building.

“How do I end up in this shit?” Bofur asked himself.

Nori usually…although Nori always stopped short of actually hurting people. The thought of his friend made his chest feel empty. The horrible description of his body left Bofur imagining in terrible cinematic realism what had befallen Nori. He shook his head and saw Thorin returning with Legolas. The latter looked stony as he walked back into the alley. It was then Bofur saw the knife concealed in Thorin’s heavy hand.

“What is the meaning of this?” asked Legolas evenly.

“I just want you to answer a few questions for me,” said Thorin.

Legolas’s eyes came to rest on Bofur.

“Didn’t you work for us?”

“My twin,” deadpanned Bofur.

Legolas shot him a weird look and stepped away from Thorin. He did not look afraid.

“You know who I am?”

“Thorin…& Co.,” said Legolas, glancing back to Bofur.

“You know what I’m after?”

“The bomb wasn’t us,” protested Legolas.

“Not worried about the bomb, but thanks for the tip. Do you always need a lawyer telling you not to answer?”

“I don’t know what you’re after.”

“A USB. We think you were blackmailing Smaug Inc. with it,” said Thorin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said obstinately.

Thorin slammed Legolas against the brick wall, and Bofur heard himself yell in protest. Legolas looked over at Bofur incredulously.

“What is this? Bad cop, incompetent cop?” said Legolas.

“Nope, just crazy Thorin beating the shit out of you in an alley,” affirmed Bofur humourlessly.

“Look, I need to know about the USB, someone’s life is at stake,” Thorin growled.

“We did try to get it back…”

“And?”

“Maybe it’s in limbo,” said Legolas.

“Limbo?” said Thorin, pressing his forearm against Legolas’s windpipe.

“Thorin, don’t,” said Bofur, pulling Thorin back.

“I wasn’t going to press charges until this point,” threatened Legolas.

“You’re not going to press charges. You know what was in my desk,” said Thorin.

“Do you even have a desk anymore?”

Thorin smiled.

“I have a friend with copies. Just play nice,” said Thorin.

“I understand that we had an informer in your company,” submitted Legolas.

“Tauriel.”

Legolas’s mouth twitched. Thorin released him roughly. Legolas brushed off his suit smartly and headed back towards Mirkwood head office.

“We’ll call this one a freebie, yeah?” he said sarcastically before disappearing around the corner.

“Fucking Tauriel,” spat Thorin.

Thorin stalked down the alley to the backstreet where his car was parked. Bofur followed him. He had never seen Thorin so relentlessly angry. He slipped into the passenger seat and Thorin slammed the door, sitting behind the wheel for a long time.

“I don’t think it’s Tauriel,” said Bofur.

“Of course it is.”

“No. Didn’t you see his face? The guy didn’t answer you.”

“You’re going to go off of that?”

“Look, I hung around with Nori for like…fifteen years. If there was ever lair…” Bofur sighed, that awful emptiness returning.

“So you want to go on a twitch because Nori used to lie to you?” mocked Thorin.

“I’m just saying, don’t narrow it down to Tauriel because of your personal feelings. We’re missing something big here, and I’m not even sure Greenleaf knows…”

“I have had just about enough of everyone trying to clear that woman’s name!”

Bofur took a deep breath, unsure of what he was to say to Thorin.

“I think you’re just looking to blame anyone but yourself for Kíli’s disappearance.”

Bofur clapped a hand over his mouth; surely he had not meant to say that. Thorin grabbed him by the collar and Bofur flinched, expecting a heavy fist to meet with his face. Instead Thorin slowly let him go. Saying nothing, Thorin started the car and shifted into drive. Bofur did not ask where they were going, and Thorin offered nothing.

9:34 AM

After it became apparent that Thorin was not coming back, Baggins suggested they check for anything in Kíli’s apartment. Fíli got into the passenger seat of the 1970 Citroën DS, carefully setting aside some files that had occupied the seat.

“Baggins, you do this kind of thing often?” asked Fíli.

“You can call me Bilbo,” he offered.

“Alright. Bilbo, do you do this sort of thing often?”

“How do you mean?”

“Big cases like this.”

Bilbo made a face somewhere between a smile and a grimace.

“So not a lot then,” pressed Fíli.

“To be honest it’s mostly divorce stuff. Spouses cheating on one another, it’s all very crass. They hire me to get some compromising evidence…well you know how it goes,” he shrugged.

“So you’ve never really dealt with a case like this?”

“I have dealt with several corporate cases…”

“How did they turn out?”

“I don’t really appreciate this line of questioning.”

Fíli sighed dejectedly.

“But,” said Bilbo, in an attempt to regain Fíli’s confidence, “I have dealt with two non-corporate kidnappings. They both ended well.”

Fíli nodded, pulling Thorin’s slightly too large jacket more tightly around himself. He wished it were Kíli’s grimy, bloodstained sweater. He remained silent as they got into Rivendell, directing Bilbo to Kíli’s apartment as they rolled into town.

As they approached Kíli’s door it was evident that they were not the first to arrive. The lock had been picked and the metal around the mouth of the lock showed evidence of sharp tools. Bilbo cautiously turned the handle and they door opened. They were assaulted with the odour of Kíli’s poor housekeeping.

“Maybe the stench scared them off,” Bilbo joked as they stepped inside.

“I thought his room was bad at home,” Fíli remarked, with a hint of a smile.

His smile faded quickly as they picked through tipped boxes. The mess was evidently not just Kíli’s doing. Kíli’s desktop computer had been tipped to the floor along with the desk. No doubt they had looked for the USB. Fíli sat on the far edge of Kíli’s bed and pulled his laptop from under it. Bilbo looked at him in surprise.

“I can’t believe they didn’t destroy that too.”

“The thing about us twenty-somethings…we have multiple computers and our parents don’t get why. If they sent someone middle-aged to search, no chance they would think to look for a second computer…and it’s not really a surprise they couldn’t find it under this mess…”

Fíli opened the laptop and immediately started going through Kíli’s browser history. It was a Google maps search that caught his eye: to 124 Mill Street. He handed the laptop to Bilbo and searched his pockets for his phone.

“What’s this?” Bilbo asked.

“I just remembered something. Maybe we can get a lead…”  
He pulled out his phone, and spotted Kíli’s charger, by the overturned desk. He plugged it in and scrolled through Kíli’s messages, running his hand through his hair.

“He was going out with Tauriel the night before we received word,” Fíli confirmed.

“Tauriel? Thorin’s equity-hire?”

“Maybe she saw something!” said Fíli.

“Why was he going out with her? I don’t understand why she’s in Rivendell. I thought she was with some Legolas fellow.”

“They broke up a few weeks ago. Kíli always had a thing for her at work…apparently she studied here as well…”

“Something’s…missing here,” said Bilbo.

“C’mon, let’s go to her place,” Fíli urged.

Bilbo nodded, closing the laptop and taking it with him for further analysis. Fíli took his phone from the charger and they headed to Mill Street. They checked the mailboxes in the entrance, found Tauriel’s name and buzzed her apartment, but no one appeared to be home.

“Now what?” asked Fíli.

Bilbo held up one finger and Fíli also heard the laughter of students descending the stairs. They guilelessly held the door for Fíli and Bilbo, who climbed to the top floor to Tauriel’s door. After knocking a few times it was evident she was either not answering or not home.

Fíli raised his eyebrows at Bilbo. With a quick glance down the hall he pulled out a bent wire and what looked like a jack-knife, and made quick work of the lock. Bilbo peeked in cautiously and gestured for Fíli to follow him. The place had the look of having been hurriedly evacuated, furniture was crooked, but no possessions that denoted Tauriel’s presence remained.

Bilbo began to search the place, and Fíli numbly followed him. If Tauriel had left…Fíli’s brain did not feel like it was working properly. He had worked with her for a few weeks, and she had always been nice enough…maybe a touch nosey.

“She did it,” he said numbly.

“Sorry, what was that?” asked Bilbo.

Fíli held his hand over his mouth, closing his eyes as his stomach clenched. Bilbo looked back at him in concern.

“Fíli?”

Fíli stumbled blindly into the bathroom and lost the meagre contents of his stomach. He gagged, unable to bring up anything else. Bilbo stepped into the bathroom, handing Fíli a glass of water. Fíli waved it away, wiping at his stinging eyes as he slumped back against the shower door.

“I knew it…she was hired by someone…”

“By Smaug,” said Bilbo quietly.

“I couldn’t convince him…it was too good to be true…”

“This isn’t your fault.”

Fíli drew his knees up to his chest, shaking his head. Bilbo squatted in front of him, pressing the glass into his hands.

“Rivendell has a bus station?” asked Bilbo.

“More like a wicket by a gas station,” Fíli recalled.

“It’s a pretty anonymous way to travel,” smiled Bilbo.


	15. The First 48 III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PI Baggins has a plan...though, no one ever said it was a good plan.

11:06 AM

“What makes you think she’ll be there? She could have left last night,” Fíli said.

“I don’t think she left until this morning,” Bilbo replied.

He turned the car sharply to beat the red light. Fíli steadied himself with his hands on the dashboard and cringed at the honking behind them.

“What makes you think that?”

“She did the dishes this morning.”

“I need you to explain this to me…” said Fíli blankly.

“The dishes in the rack were mostly dry, but the tea towel was still damp. Obviously she didn’t use it on the dishes, but probably to clean up around the sink.”

“That’s what you’re going on?”

“You’ve already had your detective moment with the computer. I’ve been doing this sort of thing for a while though, and you learn to look for these little things.”

“Snapping photos of adulterous couples?” Fíli said ironically.

“You learn a lot about people’s habits,” Bilbo replied defensively.

Fíli leaned back in his seat, remaining silent as they pulled into a parking space on the side street. Bilbo looked at the little portable in the lot beside the gas station.

“You weren’t kidding…I don’t even know if I’d call that a kiosk,” said Bilbo.

“Small town though, right?”

They stepped out of the vehicle, heading to the kiosk. Fíli stopped, grabbing Bilbo by the sleeve.

“What?”

Fíli pointed out the familiar red braid; Tauriel was sitting on the bench at the bus stop. Bilbo and Fíli picked up the pace, each of them taking a seat on either side of her. She attempted to rise, but Fíli pressed her forearm down against the armrest that divided the bench. When she glared at him, he could see that her face had grown thinner since he had last seen her at the funeral

“We just want to ask you a few questions,” said Bilbo.

“Don’t try anything,” Fíli advised.

She smirked bitterly.

“Fíli, you’re smarter than that. You blink and your face will be smeared on the pavement. I haven't gotten this far without a little defensive practice.”

“Now who's being threatening, just tell us what happened to Kíli,” said Fíli, but he removed his hand from her arm.

“He was taken…some asshole named Bolg…”

“Why are you leaving?” asked Bilbo.

“I don’t want Bolg to get me next,” she said.

“Why don’t you help us then?” pressed Fíli.

She gave him a cold look. He met her stare with a steely determination.

“You know the kidnapper’s name; did you play a part in it?” said Fíli.

She did not respond.

“Fuck, Tauriel! What do you know?” cursed Fíli.

“Do you know about a USB?” asked Bilbo calmly.

She shook her head.

“We need your help! We can keep you safe from Smaug’s guys,” pleaded Fíli.

“No you can’t,” she said sadly.

She looked down the street. The bus was stopped at the intersection. Fíli followed her gaze; they only had a few moments to convince Tauriel to help them.

“Look,” she said, “I don’t know where they took him, but I do know you have someone in Thorin & Co. who was working for Mirkwood. I don’t know who it is. Thorin thought it was me, but the only thing I ever told anyone was how to provoke Dwalin…sort of Legolas’s speciality.”

“So you didn’t plunder Thorin’s apartment?” Bilbo asked.

“No,” she said with surprise.

The bus arrived and a few people got out. Tauriel rose and Fíli jumped up, gripping her arm.

“I remind you, get your hand off of me,” she said with frightening composure.

“Please, Tauriel. Don’t you care about Kíli?”

“Whether or not I care about him…” she shook her head and sighed, “It’s too late for me to help you, I’m sorry.”

Fíli saw the pain in her eyes behind the cool mask, and he really did believe she was sorry. He nodded and backed away from her. She boarded the bus without a second glance. Fíli stepped backwards despondently, arms crossed, clutching his sleeves of the jacket.

“We need to call your uncle,” said Bilbo, steering Fíli in the direction of the cream coloured Citroën.

“And tell him our only lead left?”

“Weren’t you listening? There’s someone inside Thorin & Co. who was working for Mirkwood. That’s our trail to the USB,” said Bilbo.

Bilbo sat down in the driver’s seat and dialled Thorin. Fíli leaned forward, clutching his stomach.

“You’re not going to be sick again?”

Fíli shook his head.

“Well if you are then step outside…Hello? Thorin, it’s Bilbo Baggins calling, just after eleven-thirty…we managed to track down a lead. It turns out that it’s someone inside of your company who’s working with Mirkwood. If you have any idea who that could be, just give me a call and we can track them down.”

Bilbo ended the call smartly. Fíli was still curled over as Bilbo started the car and headed for the highway.

“Fíli?”

“I’m fine,” he said sitting up.

“Evidently,” said Bilbo with a smooth sarcasm.

“I’ve known all of those people for years…if I had to guess who would be working for Mirkwood…I can’t…”

“If you had to guess…” prompted Bilbo.

“I dunno…I mean, I would say Nori, but…you know…or Bofur maybe, but he ran away so that doesn’t seem right…”

“Well who else works there?”

“Well Thorin and Dwalin…but they own it. Kíli and I work there in the summer, sometimes on weekends when we’re home. Then there’s Ori, Bombur, and Glóin.”

“Did they ever have any incidents that would turn them against the company?”  
Fíli searched his memory.

“Well…a couple of years ago there was a really big thing…well mostly it was just Dwalin being an asshole.”

Bilbo nodded, prompting Fíli to carry on.

“He said something really rude to Ori…“homophobic remarks”. I don’t think Dwalin’s really homophobic, just a jerk, but Ori was pretty new and it really upset him. I know Thorin had his hands full mediating it…Dwalin doesn’t really say sorry…”

“You think it could be Ori?”

“Well…no…Glóin and Bombur have had way more incidents than Ori. Glóin’s always mad about something; I mean, he complains about us not saving him the dutchie when we get doughnuts. I think he thinks that he doesn’t get paid enough, he’s always mad about things like cheap toilet paper and that the coffee maker is an '80s model, but he’s always there. Bombur’s screwed up some orders and Thorin was disappointed, but Dwalin really reamed him for it. Every time Bombur screws up Dwalin flies off the handle, but…that’s just Dwalin.”

“Sounds like a hostile work environment,” said Bilbo drily.

Fíli shrugged.

“Dwalin makes sure things are perfect and that they get done properly. He’s hard on everyone.”

“Do you think it could be Dwalin?”

“Not for a second.”

“Why not?”

“You mean other than the fact he's currently lying the the hospital with a concussion and internal bleeding from the explosion?”

“That could have been Smaug’s people. I’ve read the cases, seems their style. Although the police are probably investigating insurance fraud at this point,” Bilbo said.

Fíli sighed.

“Let’s just meet up with Thorin,” said Bilbo.

11:23 AM

“Thorin. I find you at my doorstep once more,” complained Gandalf.

He and Radagast looked to be returning the office from morning classes. Bofur was sitting on the floor and Thorin was leaning irritably against the painted cinderblock wall. He stepped forward, his dark-circled eyes boring holes in the professor’s.

“You missed our meeting this morning,” Thorin said.

“I was delayed.”

Thorin raised his eyebrows, but no further explanation seemed forthcoming.

“What have you found?” asked Gandalf, inviting everyone into his office.

“It’s Smaug Inc.,” said Thorin.

“Smaug,” mused Gandalf, “you’re sure?”

Thorin looked to Bofur.

“I’ve been around the business block. I’ve heard of these guys, but there’s one guy who was sent to harass a client of mine a couple of years ago. Right brute, missing an eye…my client said it was one of Smaug’s, didn’t think anything of it at the time…”

“Who knows of this?” asked Radagast, his eyes wide with alarm.

“A few in my company and the PI,” said Thorin.

“Have you made any headway on the USB?” Gandalf asked in a low voice.

“It was stolen by someone working for Mirkwood. We know that much,” he said.

“We can see what we can find,” said Radagast, “but I imagine there won’t be any paperwork on something like this.”

Bofur looked at Thorin curiously.

“What?”

“Is that your phone?”

Thorin pulled his phone from his jacket.

“Missed the call. Thank you for your help gentlemen,” he said rising.

Bofur followed Thorin out through the hallway and back to the car. Thorin had maintained his stony silence since Bofur had let slip his opinion on Thorin’s behaviour. Presently Thorin settled in the driver’s seat.

“We have a message,” he said, playing Bilbo’s message aloud for Bofur.

“Someone in the company…like Legolas said,” Bofur pointed out.

“You seem to know an awful lot about this,” he said in an accusatory tone.

“I know what I’ve heard. I’ve been working with you for this, and I had tons of opportunity to steal the USB…and I took it from Mirkwood in the first place!” Bofur ranted.

“Glóin.”

“Glóin? Really?”

Thorin quickly sent off a text message to Fíli and Baggins.

“It’s not Ori, not a chance…and unless you think it’s your brother?”

“Glóin it is,” said Bofur numbly.

“Fuck. Dwalin will love this,” grumbled Thorin.

“How did you just decide on Glóin?”

“I should have seen it earlier. He likes Mirkwood, has stock in their company. Greedy bastard would do anything for a buck.”

“You think he’s trying to improve their stock?” said Bofur sceptically.

“I think he would be receptive to taking a bribe from them.”

1:10 PM

Bilbo and Fíli stepped out of the Citroën to meet Thorin. They had returned to the shabby strip where the PI was officed. Bofur remained in Thorin’s car with all of the appearances of sleeping.

“So Glóin?” Fíli asked.

“He’s agreed to show up at the office, we’ll get the truth out of him,” said Thorin grimly.

Fíli nodded.

“Stay here and keep an eye on Bofur.”

“Thorin…”

“Just do it please,” said Thorin sharply.

Fíli stalked over to the car and sat down in the driver’s seat. Bofur did not stir. Faking, Thorin decided.

“Look, you’re not going to hit him or anything,” Bilbo said as he unlocked the office.

“I won’t need to,” he said confidently.

They settled into to office to await Glóin’s arrival. When the accountant entered the waiting area, Bilbo stood and ushered him into the office. Glóin settled uncomfortably in one of the ratty seats, his hat in his lap.

“What’s this about then?” grumbled Glóin.

“Just interviews for a case I’m working on,” said Bilbo innocently.

“Bullshit,” said Glóin, eying Thorin.

“Okay Glóin, here’s the deal. We know you’ve been working for Mirkwood. You’re fired, so that’s no longer an issue. You tell us where the USB is and anything else you know and we’ll let this go. No court, no lawyers, no cops. You don’t answer right away and we’ll drag you through the system and your accounting days will be over,” said Thorin.

Glóin nodded, looking Thorin up and down shrewdly.

“And I get my severance pay?” he asked.

Thorin nodded. Glóin stared at Thorin for a moment.

“I feel like I need more than your word on this,” said Glóin.

Thorin dropped cheque in front of Glóin.

“That’s your severance pay. Dwalin’s not here; this isn’t about anything but finding out where the USB is.”

“I took your USB, but I don’t have it anymore. I gave it to a contact. I don’t know her name. And…I didn’t blow up the shop…but I think it was Mirkwood. They told me they were going to destroy your files…I just thought they were going to break in like before.”

“Why would you do that? We had you on for twelve years,” said Thorin.

“I needed the money. They have a position for me all lined up in their accounting department, just for getting the USB and leaving the door open for them.”

“You needed the money that badly?” Thorin asked in dismay.

“Look, there’s nowhere to go in your company. Gimli’s starting university in a couple of years. The wife thinks we need new cars, new kitchen…this isn’t feasible.”

Thorin shoved a stack of folders off the desk in anger.

“Well…that’s your case anyway…” Bilbo protested, looking at the scattered papers.

“So you threw my company under the bus because you’re keeping up with the Jones’s?” Thorin shouted at Glóin.

The accountant stood and replaced his cap on his head.

“I’ve told you the truth, I don’t owe you anything more,” he said.

“I don’t believe this,” growled Thorin.

Glóin made for the door. He stepped out, turning back before he closed it behind himself.

“Thorin. It’s only business.”

Glóin closed the door and Thorin kicked the heavy desk in his anger.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” said Bilbo.

“What a shit head,” said Thorin, continuing his pacing.

Fíli and Bofur came into the office looking ruffled. Fíli had Bofur by the sleeve. Bofur did not protest as Fíli shoved him slightly.

“I thought I said to stay in the car,” said Thorin angrily.

“Yeah well, Glóin got a bit rude,” said Bofur.

“Based on what he said, Glóin seems to think Bofur has something to do with the disappearance of the USB,” Fíli said.

“I don’t. I told you, he’s being a shit-disturber,” said Bofur.

“I believe you, Bofur,” said Thorin.

“You do?” Fíli and Bofur asked simultaneously.

“Glóin’s just mad because I figured him out.”

“And what about the USB?”

Thorin sank back into one of seats and shook his head.

“He didn’t take it?” Fíli asked.

“He didn’t have it,” Bilbo said softly.

Thorin sighed dejectedly and rubbed his hands over his face, then back through his tangled hair.

“We have nothing…we don’t even know where Kíli is…” Fíli said tonelessly.

Even Bofur looked miserable, his hat clenched in his hand. Bilbo leaned back against his desk, his mind flipping through possible outcomes. It looked rather grim for Kíli, but Bilbo was not ready to give up hope with nine hours remaining on the clock.

“I might have an idea,” he said.

4:33 PM

“Oh Dwalin, what have you gotten yourself into…”

Dwalin attempted to sit up at the sound of his brother’s voice. He grimaced and Dís laid a hand on his shoulder.

“How did you get back so quickly?” Dwalin asked.

“Took the first plane out and got a cab from the airport. What’s happened?”

“I could write a book on it,” said Dwalin.

“Dís, good to see you again.”

Dís nodded.

“Balin, please take Dís to get some food.”

“I’m fine really,” she said.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you haven’t eaten all day,” Dwalin said.

Balin nodded.

“You might as well, Dís. Come along. Tell me what’s going on,” Balin said, gently taking her arm.

She followed Balin and Dwalin listened for the voices to disappear. Taking a deep breath he detangled himself from his various sensors, and carefully pulled the IV from his hand.

“Shit,” he cursed, covering the spot where his hand bled.

He pulled himself into as sitting position as best he could, the incision on his abdomen pulsing painfully with his heartbeat. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself to the edge of the bed, grasping the bag of clothes that Dís had brought for him. Dressing himself carefully, avoiding the gauze and tap over the incision. He felt horribly dizzy as he grasped his phone off of the small side table to text Thorin.

Where are you?

“Dwalin!” said Dís.

She and his brother were standing in the doorway looking shocked at his attempt to leave. He was very pleased that they had not caught him halfway through his attempt to pull on his pants.

“I’m ready to check out,” he said.

“No, don’t be foolish,” said Balin.

“I’m getting a nurse,” said Dís, stepping out into the hall.

“Balin, I can’t sit here while…” he gasped, his hand hovering over his incision.

“This is exactly why you need to stay here, Dwalin,” he said exasperatedly.

Balin gently grasped his brother’s shoulders and encouraged him return to his bed. Dwalin gave in and leaned back against the pillows. Dís returned with a nurse, who shook her head and began to start a new IV.

“Dwalin, I have to go,” said Dís.

“Dís…”

“You have Balin here. I need to find Thorin,” she said, leaving.

Dwalin leaned his head back and closed his eyes in despair. Balin stayed out of the nurse’s way until she had Dwalin back in order.

“I’m so tried.”

“You did have surgery last night,” said Balin, squeezing Dwalin’s shoulder.

“I should be solving this whole mess with Thorin,” he said guiltily.

“He would never expect that of you right now.”

“I watched Kíli grow up. Saw him and his brother almost every day until the day the went off to university…even then…”

“Just close your eyes.”

“I’ve been drugged,” he said sluggishly.

“Yes, for the pain I imagine,” said Balin, shaking his head.

Dwalin sighed irately as he lost the will to keep his eyes open.

“Thanks for coming, Balin,” he muttered.

“Can’t imagine why I would want to be anywhere else,” his brother replied drily.

???

Kíli could not remember the first night of his captivity. He did not remember how he came to be bound to a chair in a warehouse with a bunch of men in ski masks. Even what he thought would be a normal terror response had not worked properly; perhaps he was too frightened to be afraid? His mind danced in circles for what felt like days, but may have only been hours.

Kíli slowly became aware that he was lying on his side, still tied to the chair. The men in ski masks approached him, cutting him loose. He did not have the will to fight as they moved him to what appeared to be an emergency shower. It was long abandoned with grimy tile and three heavy pipes feeding the showerheads above. They fastened his arms to two of the pipes, and he was left with very little room to bend his elbows.

One masked man stayed behind to watch him, sitting backwards on a chair, while to others left the confines of the emergency shower. The man flicked a hunting knife in and out of its casing. In the flickering light of a florescent tube, Kíli took in several circular burns on the insides of his bare arms. He could not recall how they came to be there.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“Can’t tell you. Guess you probably wouldn’t remember if I did,” he said.

“What? I’m…why I’m I tied up?”

“You’re a hostage, mate. We’ve been over this.”

“I don’t even remember…I was at the bar…Tauriel!”

The man snickered.

“Why are you laughing? What have you done to her?”

“Every time,” he laughed.

“What?”

“She drugged you. That’s why you can’t remember the last six times we’ve had this conversation.”

Kíli’s insides felt cold.

“I don’t believe you…” Kíli said.

“At first we didn’t know who you were talking about…then the boss told us. Tall redhead, right?”

Kíli nodded numbly.

“The whole reason she was hired was to lure you here. She drugged your drink, called the boss, and now you’re here.”

Kíli thought he might have cried, but could not manage any tears. His frustration and confusion made him ready to lash out, but a deeper sense of self-preservation kept him still.

“What do you want with me?” Kíli asked.

“Well, it didn’t take much for you to tell us your uncle has what we want,” said the man, lighting up a cigarette.

Kíli cringed. That accounted for the marks on his arms.

“Look, we don’t really want to keep you,” he said in a puff of smoke.

“You could let me go then.”

The man smiled and shook his head.

“We’re going to trade you.”

“And until then?”

“I’m supposed to watch you. I’d really like if you got mouthy,” he said, returning to flicking his knife.

Kíli elected not to speak so long as this thug was watching him. He rested his head back against the wall, his arms uncomfortably wide between the vertical pipes. In the awful time it took for his mind to return from the drugged haze to full sobriety it spun over and over what he had been told.

Tauriel had been paid to bring him here.

8:55 PM

Thorin, Bofur, Fíli, and Dís stood in the PI’s office as Bilbo laid down the plans on a yellow block of paper. Thorin leaned over the table with Bilbo and Bofur. Dís stood close to his side, arms crossed, her face tight. Fíli stood away from his mother as best he could, his closed stance her mirror image.

“So we understand the plan then?” Bilbo asked.

There were nods of agreement all around.

“Right then, Dís will come with me. Fíli and Bofur will go with Thorin to Water Street for the exchange,” Bilbo said.

They began to pull on their jackets and make for their cars.

“And if this goes tit’s up?” mumbled Bofur.

“Then you’ll have to improvise,” said Bilbo.

“Fíli,” Dís said, grabbing her son by his sleeve.

Fíli stared at her coldly.

“When you get there, stay in the car,” she said to him.

“I’ll do what I have to,” he said.

“Fíli…I’m serious. I can’t lose you,” she said.

“I don’t want to have this conversation…”

“Too bad,” she said, tugging on his collar and kissing his cheek.

He pulled away and walked towards Thorin’s car and slid into the back seat. Whatever medications his mother had dug up to keep her stable through this trial, Fíli wanted nothing to do with her. He was sincerely glad that Bilbo would be taking care of Dís, and he would be with Thorin.

“You really should stay in the car,” Thorin said, getting in.

“Thorin…”

“Just in case,” said Thorin.

Fíli nodded and Thorin started the car.

“Well then,” said Bofur grimly, “shall we?”


	16. Whiskey and Doughnuts

11 October 2013  
9:57 PM

“This will be them,” said Thorin.

The headlights dimmed and Thorin and Bofur stepped out of the car.

“Don’t move,” Thorin reminded Fíli.

Thorin and Bofur approached the three men who had come from the two black cars ahead of them. Thorin held up a white USB, pulling back his hand as the leader of the group reached for it.

“I need the location of my nephew first,” he said.

“You’re not really in a position to bargain,” said the leader.

On of the other men pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and showed a live-steamed image of Kíli. He was tied between two pipes, an unseen figure holding a knife to his throat. Bofur drew in his breath, and Thorin remained stony. Despite the dire situation Kíli faced, Thorin was shocked by how easy this delay would be. As long as Bilbo’s contact had given him the right location…

“Gents, how about we get the knife-wielding individual to step back away from him?” Bofur said.

“No dice. Give us the USB,” he said.

Thorin hesitated for a split second. It was enough to prompt the leader to issue a threat.

“Now, or I call my associate and we start spilling his blood.”

Thorin dropped the USB into the hands of the leader who immediately passed it back to the third man. Thorin’s blood ran cold as the associate opened his laptop on the hood of the car. He had known that the fake would be a bad idea.

“What you don’t trust us?” jibbed Bofur good-naturedly.

Thorin schooled his face into a neutral expression, his eyes still fixed on the phone screen. They only needed a few moments.

10:01 PM

Kíli did his best to remain calm with the knife at his throat. He reminded himself that his uncle had always come through for him before, and he would again. The blinding light of the phone left blue marks in his eyelids as he blinked, but he refused to look away. If this really was to be his demise, he did not want to go out pitifully.

“Son of a bitch!” yelled a voice from outside of the room.

There was more cursing and shouting and the sound of booted footsteps running about. 

The sound of a canister hitting the ground and rolling across the floor outside of the emergency showers drew the attention of Kíli’s captors.

The room began to fill will smoke and the man holding the phone dropped it and ran. The knife at Kíli’s throat sliced down his chest as his captor abandoned his post and Kíli yelped at the sudden pain. Kíli’s eyes and throat burned as the acrid smoke crept into the room. He continued to choke on the smoke, coughing and gagging, unable to find fresh air. His eyes were squeezed shut against the awful burning.

10:02 PM

Fíli saw the commotion as the USB was plugged into the laptop. Suddenly several guns were drawn at Thorin and Bofur as four more associates stepped out of the vehicles. Bofur’s hands were instantly in the air, his mouth moving very quickly. Thorin elbowed him sharply to shut him up.

“You think you can fuck with us?” hollered the leader.

The associate who held the phone looked grave, holding the phone towards the leader.

“We’ve gotta go. Cops will be here,” the phone carrying associated shouted.

“We said no fucking cops!” yelled the leader, his firearm trained on Thorin.

The ranks of the crime ring seemed unsure as to whether they should stay or go, but the leader still held firm, his hand clenched around grip of the handgun. Fíli took a deep breath, slipped between the two front seats into the driver’s seat. He started the car, shifted to drive, and drove as haphazardly as he could manage towards the leader. Fíli’s intentions were unclear even in his own mind, beyond distracting him from his uncle and Bofur.

Gunshots from various directions rent the air. Thorin and Bofur dropped to the ground. Bofur’s jagged yell tore through the night. Fíli was barely aware of his own yelling as he all but ploughed into the leader, who stumbled onto the hood of his own car. Thorin’s windshield had suffered a bullet, and the cracks spider webbed outward from the puncture. Fíli took little notice of the criminals scattering as sirens sounded near by. Thorin pulled Bofur into the back seat, the latter cursing and holding his shoulder.

“Fucking stupid mother fucking ideas…”

“Fíli, get us away from the mess,” said Thorin over Bofur’s tirade.

“Where?”

“Just get over to the edge of the lot.”

“Son of a bitch…” Bofur hissed.

“You’re alright,” said Thorin irritably, holding Bofur steady as Fíli whipped the car around.

“There’s a fucking bullet in my body!”

“The cops are right there. There will be an ambulance in minutes,” Thorin assured him.  
Bofur slid down the seat sideways, but Thorin prevented him from falling. The marketer clenched at his bloody shoulder with a slight gag and fell back against Thorin.

“I can’t work for you anymore, Thorin. I respectfully resign,” Bofur offered through his white lips.

“That’s good. Now I don’t have to pay you severance.”

“This is a shit show!” yelled Fíli in panic, as he saw two cops approaching them, their firearms raised.

“You’re right, it is. We need to talk about your behaviour later,” said Thorin.

“I thought they were on our side,” Fíli yelped, eyes wide.

“They’re not going to arrest us; Bilbo called them. Just do what you’re told,” Thorin assured him.

“Fuck the day I set foot in your shop!” Bofur moaned.

“EVERYONE STEP OUT OF THE CAR WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!”

10:11 PM

“Oh Kíli!” Dís yelled.

She pushed through the police line, followed closely by Bilbo. It had taken only minutes for the SWAT team to clear the warehouse and pull Kíli from the tear gas. He was immediately transferred to a stretcher where Dís caught up with the paramedics.

“Is he alright?” she asked, seeing his closed eyes.

“Ma’am we’ll have to ask you to step back,” cautioned a paramedic.

Bilbo gently grabbed her arm, guiding her back to give the paramedics room.

“He’s my son,” she snapped, jerking her arm out of Bilbo’s grasp.

“Then feel free to accompany us to the hospital,” said the other paramedic, a short woman with black, curly hair.

Dís looked back at Bilbo, who nodded. She climbed into the back of the ambulance. He watched as it disappeared into the night, the red and white lights bouncing off of the walls of the warehouses. He turned to find himself face to face with a familiar face.

“Nicely done Bilbo Baggins,” said Gandalf, clapping him warmly on the shoulder.  
Gandalf’s police badge hung around his neck, over his usual professorial get up: a tweet jacket and jeans.

“Does this mean you’re done with the case then?” Bilbo asked.

“We did not catch Bolg, though we might be able to implicate him with testimony. It seems that we have finally caught enough of the crime ring in the midst of criminal activities that we can finally make a few deals. Perhaps we can even implicate Azog,” said Gandalf.

“And Thorin and the rest? Are they alright?”

“No life threatening injuries were called in. It would appear that they are even clear of insurance fraud. Evidence turned up from an anonymous source this afternoon,” he said with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“I meant, he’s okay with the bit where you put him in a position where he was running around provoking people at Mirkwood…”

“Had he simply approached you sooner, this whole mess may have been avoided. We could have gotten Bolg’s group on the original charge, for blowing up the car.”

“I’m not going to be the one who mentions this to him…ever.”

“Yes, I’ll see what can be done to avoid him ever learning about it…and what about you? Care to come back to the force and stop chasing unfaithful couples?”

“I’m quite happy where I am,” said Bilbo.

“Of course,” said Gandalf ironically.

“And you are retiring?”

“Yes…I think I should like to continue teaching in the history department. Crime has rather got me down of late…I was really more of a consultant at my age anyway…”

Bilbo smiled as the two crossed the parking lot, taking in the arrests. There was a sweetness to their success, though it there was also an admittedly bitter tinge to Bolg’s escape.

1:41 AM

Thorin and Fíli, after thorough questioning by the police, entered the room where Dís sat watch over Kíli. He leaned back against the pillow, drowsy but awake. Fíli remained in the doorway, unsure of what to do with himself. Thorin wasted no time crossing the room and cupping his nephew’s face. Fíli swore he saw his uncle wipe tears from his eyes.

“Thorin, I’m fine,” said Kíli, shrugging his uncle away.

“I’m so sorry, Kíli,” he said quietly.

“Really it’s okay, it’s only a few stitches,” he protested.

“And you got tear gassed!” Dís said.

“That’s okay, I was too dehydrated to cry,” said Kíli.

Dís let out a soft sob and smoothed Kíli’s hair out of his eyes.

“Mum, it was a joke. Don’t cry,” he said.

Dís could no longer control her tears and Thorin put his hands on her shoulders. She wiped her eyes as her brother tried to comfort her.

“Fíli,” said Kíli, noticing his brother in the doorway.

Fíli nodded and took a step in, trying to smile for his brother. The whole situation felt surreal. His lack of sleep the last two days had not left him emotional like Dís and Thorin, but in a sort of numb haze. He was dimly aware of Thorin urging Dís to come with him to see Dwalin. He exchanged a grateful glance with his uncle and took up Dís’s vacated seat.

“Are you really alright?” Fíli asked at length.

“Sort of cold from the drip,” he said, gesturing to the IV in his hand.

Fíli cautiously took his brother’s freezing fingers, warming them between his own hands, careful to avoid the tape around the IV.

“I know that Tauriel was involved in this,” said Fíli carefully.

Kíli’s face tightened. Fíli sensed the shame his brother felt, and knew with certainty that Tauriel had done more than just lead Bolg’s people to Kíli.

“I won’t say anything to anyone about it,” Fíli promised.

“I’m such an idiot,” Kíli said, covering his face with his free hand.

“You’re not.”

“I know you want to say ‘I told you so’…just go ahead with it.”

“I don’t. Whatever I thought about her, what she might do to you…it wasn’t this.”

“She roofied me. Put something in my drink and just handed me over…I thought she…”

Kíli cleared his throat, unable to finish. Fíli could say nothing as his brother blinked furiously. How could he find the words for such a terrible betrayal? He rubbed Kíli’s arm gently, trying to restore the warmth.

“I really want to go home,” Kíli said, his voice tight.

“A few more hours. Did you want Mum to come back?”

“Can you just stay? I don’t think I can handle much more of Mum right now. She just keeps crying, I feel awful,” he said, wiping his own eyes.

“Yeah I…I’ll stay,” Fíli said.

Kíli closed his hand around his brother’s.

oOo

Dwalin was awake, arguing tiredly with Balin. He elder brother maintained that he should rest and that Kíli would come see him. Dwalin halted his argument when two figures appeared at his door.

“Dís,” he said in quiet surprise.

“Come, Balin,” said Thorin, “Bofur should be out of surgery soon.”

Balin eyed Dís briefly but followed Thorin from the room. Dís stood beside Dwalin as Thorin and Balin’s voices disappeared down the hall.

“Why don’t you sit?” Dwalin suggested.

Dís nodded and took up Balin’s empty seat, pulling it towards the bed.

“I would have thought you would be with Kíli,” he said.

“Fíli is with him right now,” she said.

“Dís…”

“Dwalin, I have something to say, before you say anything.”

He nodded.

“Maybe I’m just a little emotional from the last few days but…when I found out about you…I don’t know how to say it. I mean I’m still a mess from this whole thing with Kíli,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes.

“It’s alright…you don’t have to do this right now…”

“I’m telling you this now, I need you to know. I’ve been so selfish to think that I could string you along for more than a decade and that you would…I dunno. I have my own problems, and I didn’t know how much they were affecting my decisions about the people I care for.”

She wiped her eyes, trying to regain her composure.

“Dís, I didn’t…but we can’t go back to the way things were.”

“I don’t want to go back to that. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it too. If you don’t want to start things over I understand…but you said you don’t want to spend the rest of you life waking up alone…”

“That doesn’t sound like me…” he denied.

“What I’m suggesting is that we do this thing right. I’ve known you since we were teenagers, and I always took you for granted. I’ve been the little Durinson Princess for too long, expecting you to wait around.”

“What are you saying?” he asked suspiciously.

“I dunno…I feel like I’m in my twenties saying this…but you want to take this public? Maybe move in together? I mean it’s better than being in your twenties, because I only have a few years left on the mortgage…”

“Fifteen years…this is very sudden…” Dwalin half-joked.

Dís stood and took his hand, looking him in the eyes with an intensity he had never seen in the fiery woman’s eyes. She had always frightened him in the best way possible.

“You’re not joking…you don’t think this is because of all that’s happened?” he asked.

“Of course it is. I’ve gained some perspective about the risk of losing those you care about…”

“And?” he said.

“I love you. I think I have since the day we met and if I grow old with someone I want it to be you.”

He gripped her arms and pulled her forward to kiss her, a warmth spreading through him that he thought only the young and in love experienced.

18 October 2013

“I could have called a cab,” Bofur insisted.

His brother opened the passenger-side door of the car. Bofur sat down, pulling the seatbelt around his sling carefully.

“I didn’t want you to have to call a cab,” Bombur said.

“So you took my car instead and messed up the seat. Now it’ll take forever to figure out,” complained Bofur.

“You’re in a mood,” said Bombur.

Bofur did not respond, but instead watched the world fly by as they made it back to his apartment. A feeling of unresolved melancholy that had very little to do with the wound in his shoulder had settled over perpetually cheerful Bofur.

“I even cleaned up for you,” Bombur said, as they reached Bofur’s door.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Bombur shrugged and glanced back out into the hall before closing the door and helping Bofur settle himself on the sofa. His brother brought him the TV remote and went to the kitchen.

“Bombur, you don’t have to cook. You can go home.”

Bombur ignored him, and Bofur managed to grab a cigarette from the silvery case on the coffee table. This was what everyone else did when they were miserable, perhaps it would help. He contemplated his predicament as the smoke swirled off of the cigarette. He stubbed it out and leaned back against the pillows Bombur had set up for him. Bofur found that the cigarette had not helped his mental state and just left him wanting gum.  
He heard a clatter and then Bombur rushing out of the apartment into the hallway.

“Bombur, what are you doing?” Bofur called.

When Bombur did not respond Bofur irritably got up. The door to the hallway remained open so he peeked out to see that Bombur had caught Mary on her way home from work.

“Bombur, I’m surprised to see you again…” she smiled.

“Mary, I um…my brother’s cat. He’s home so maybe we could have her back.”

“Right, yes…she’s a sweet little thing,” said Mary unlocking her door.

“Alright, I um…that’s not really what I wanted to say,” Bombur stammered.

“Oh.”

“Look, I think you are…so weird.”

Confusion registered on her face, and Bofur shook his head in sympathy for Bombur’s awkwardness.

“You’re the strangest woman I’ve ever met, and I can’t stop thinking about you. And I want to make you dinner,” he said.

“That’s…you want to make me dinner?” she smiled.

“Yes.”

“I would like that,” she said, to Bofur’s amazement.

“You would?” asked Bombur, surprised.

“Yeah. You’re very weird yourself.”

Bofur shook his head and retreated to the sofa.

“A lid for every pot…” he said incredulously.

oOo

Fíli had spent most of his reading week helping Kíli. His brother had decided that he could not return to school this semester and had dropped all of his courses. He also refused to return to his apartment and had decided he wanted to sublet it. Dís had kept him home and insisted that Fíli go and pack up Kíli’s stuff. Fíli felt a little picked on to have to go clean up his brother’s mess, but Thorin had accompanied him with the company van.

“You think we could just burn it all?” Fíli said, looking around the place in disgust.

“I think we would burn another hole in the ozone layer...” said Thorin.

“Thorin, its 2013. We talk about climate change not a hole in the ozone layer,” he smirked.

“Fíli, I never know what the hell you're talking about.”

They set to repacking the boxes and bins, and filled trash bags with the junk that was scattered around the small apartment. Fíli had almost finished packing Kíli’s considerable DVD collection when Thorin spoke.

“I wanted to make sure that you were alright,” Thorin said.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I mean with everything that happened.”

Fíli swallowed, not entirely sure what to say. He had been helping out his brother this past week, out of guilt more than compassion. It was the horrible feeling that he should have been the one kidnapped, and the even worse feeling that he was glad that he had not been. Thorin could not possibly know all of this, Fíli thought.

“I’ll be okay with it when I get back to school. I’ll have something to do again,” he said.

“Fíli.”

Fíli paused fitting the DVD cases into boxes and turned to see his uncle had also paused, dropping the garbage bag on the floor.

“Look,” Thorin said, sitting on the edge of Kíli’s bed, “I put you in a terrible position.”

Fíli maintained his silence, seated on the parquet floor.

“I left you alone to deal with something that was incredibly difficult, not to mention I left you at the hospital with Dwalin.”

“It’s okay. Dwalin can be very pleasant when he's mostly unconscious.”

“Don't be smart, I'm being very serious. I shouldn’t have expected you to take care of those things.”

“Really…it’s fine. I’m old enough to take care of things.”

“I wouldn’t have held together when I was your age. I was older than you were when I lost my brother…I fell to pieces.”

“But I didn’t really lose my brother,” reasoned Fíli quietly.

“Still,” said Thorin.

“When did you…feel alright again? After your brother…”

“I don’t know. Maybe I still don’t. The police never did find out who put the hit out on him…” said Thorin.

Fíli nodded, immediately sorry he had dredged up this hurt with his uncle.

“I guess you just never know about some things,” said Thorin distantly.

“We want to get this done before dark, right?” Fíli said after a pause.

Thorin nodded and they resumed the clean up. At length he interrupted again.

“Fíli. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Fíli said softly.

Perhaps his uncle knew Fíli better than he thought.

 

17 October 2013

Bofur lamented the sunshine as he made his way through the tombstones. It felt insulting, as though the day should be more sombre. He supposed that in the month since Nori had been gone there had been both beautiful and ugly days. Nori had seemed to like the grey days, Bofur thought. Though with Nori it was always difficult to tell.

He approached the flat stone; grey, highly polished but inauspicious. He stood for a moment taking in the mound where little grass had grown in the coming winter. Whatever hollowness had been holed inside his chest broke; a horrible grief filled the emptiness.

“Never did get you that pint,” he said, and shook his head.

He pulled a bottle of whiskey in a paper bag from inside of his jacket and splashed a little on the grave.

“I’ve seen that in movies, I thought you would like it. Though you never did smile much, so it’s hard to say. I think I’m supposed to have some too, but these painkillers they have me on…”

He looked grave then back to the bottle.

“Well if you insist,” he said, taking a swig and returning it to his jacket.

Bofur knelt and touched the stone with his uninjured hand.

“We should have both left, or neither of us. I feel so terrible I’m not even sure what to do,” he smiled bitterly, “I’d call you, see if you wanted to go for a pint, watch a match, and then not talk about it. That would be so much better than this.”

Bofur brushed his sleeve quickly over his eyes.

“That night you met me…we couldn’t have known what sort of trouble we were getting into. Maybe my life would have been a little more peaceful if we hadn’t run into each other…It wouldn’t have been better though…I know I was always the happy one. I dunno if that’s me anymore…maybe I’ll just be a little cynical for you sometimes…just so we don’t…”

Bofur exhaled a shuddering breath.

“…forget.”

He stood and briskly wiped away the tears that pooled in his eyes. With a heavy gasp, he took off back down the path. The misery in his heart was terrible, perhaps worse than the emptiness. At least it was something.

oOo

“You sure you should be out on that thing?” Thorin asked, eyeing Dwalin’s motorcycle through the blown-out window.

“I think I’m going to get rid of it,” said Dwalin.

“Really?”

“Who am I kidding? This thing is terrible in the rain, can’t use it in the winter.”

Thorin raised his eyebrows and continued to dig through the burned out office.

“I think you should keep it,” said Thorin.

Dwalin shook his head at Thorin’s fickle stance on the bike.

“It’s okay to be in here?” Dwalin asked, eyeing the burned out building.

“They said it would hold. Investigation’s over…just seeing if there’s anything left,” said Thorin.

“The forge?”

“There are some replicas…”

“Do we start over?” Dwalin asked at length.

Thorin shook his head and sighed.

“Not this time,” he said.

“What’s different?” Dwalin enquired.

“I can’t keep putting targets on my family and my colleagues.”

“That’s not really a reason…”

“It is. It’s not a world for little businesses like us. Our numbers have dipped in the last few years. This post-recession stuff…”

“We were doing fine.”

“We had some theatre productions…and yeah, there are still people out there ordering these things…”

“Nerds,” said Dwalin with the smallest of smiles.

“I just don’t think this is sustainable. We’re not in our thirties anymore. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I can build this thing up for another seventeen years with the competition we’re getting from Mirkwood and other big companies.”

“So we go out…work for other people.”

“First we should get some of this stuff cleaned up,” said Thorin.

Dwalin nodded and cautiously ran a hand over the remains of the accounting computer.

“You think we could get Fíli to bring some doughnuts?”

Thorin half-smiled across the charred desk at his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did intend for things never to get solved. Thorin always has to live with the uncomfortable lack of resolution, that's life. Anyway, thanks for reading!


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